


Missed You in the Darkness

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-24
Updated: 2010-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apart since Sam left for school – Dean arrives at his doorstep on the eve of a zombie apocalypse to save him. Sam’s moved on, has a lover and won’t leave without him. Could be Dean’s trip from hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Years. He had been living this life, hunting this shit, doing this _thing_ for fucking _years_ and never once would he have guessed it would come to this. Though really, Dean figured he shouldn't have been surprised. But when you're running from a person - who wasn't really a person - and trying to figure out what the _fuck_ was happening your mind had time for a few things. For Dean it went something like this.

 _Shit, that guy has blood all over him. Vampire?_ Of course instinct had him stepping forward then it was. _Oh fucking shit that's no Vampire._ Which naturally had him turning to bolt because facing something unknown, followed by several other unknowns, with no weapons? Well Dean was just about screwed. So then it was, _Faster. Faster damnit. Shoulda stopped smoking. Where's my fuckin' keys? What the fuck is happening? Shoulda fucked that guy last night ‘cause god damnit I'm gonna die._ And yeah, Dean's thoughts were pretty damn filthy but this situation called for the whole wide mass of foul language as often as possible.

It kind of snapped together for him later, when he was safely speeding down the deserted highway. No radio stations for the first hundred miles and Dean just _knew_. It was the end of the world, served up like some cheap horror movie he'd seen a dozen times in black and white or in color depending on the motel. There were collisions, mini vans and sport cars piled up around semis and Dean was never more thankful he had enough of a connection with his car to know how to maneuver around. Because stopping? It was no longer a prospect. Not here at least.

There was really only one place Dean thought to go with the knowledge of the impending world destruction. Acknowledging that little tidbit was a big step in his book, years ago, hell even weeks ago it wouldn't have been so easy. It was never that easy and it wouldn't be now but hell if he was just gonna sit back without a fighting chance. Dean had been down that suicide path and it didn't end anywhere warm or pleasant. Now though, he had some time. And if the world was really ending than he'd have all the fucking time he needed to sort himself out. Eight years hadn't been enough but, here he was.

It had been awhile since Dean stopped seeing Sam's face in random strangers on the street. It came back though, when he was racing halfway across the country to save the estranged man before the disease could spread to sunny California. Dean saw Sam, whispers of his image in the face of the man at the gas station, in the stance of the reporter on the TV. Here, a good two hundred miles from the place this crazy shit had started at, there was still power.

"Reports of an infection are spreading rapidly across the country," the reporter was saying.

Dean loathed those types. Reporters. Businessmen. Lawyers - but maybe not lawyers because there was the chance that his brother had become exactly that and Dean could never _loathe_ him. Even if he wanted too. Sometimes. This man though, the reporter, Dean felt an odd kinship with. Only because he looked terrified despite his professional words. He looked like someone who maybe saw a video, knew something _more_ and just wasn't sharing. Dean saw that look every time he helped a family by ridding them of the ghost in the attic or saved a life by showing up just in time. Complete and utter _fear_.

Because this? It was the fucking _end_.

No one was saying it though. No one addressed the fact that no word was coming from DC - Dean amused himself for just a moment at the idea of their great and mighty President in this condition. Then it got a little morbid and he changed the stations, put on a cassette when all there was news. So this was how it happened then. Zombies. If you wanted to call them that. It was the only thing Dean could think to name them and, despite the little giddy trip at the idea, it was pretty damn scary.

There was nothing but road stretching in front of him and nothing but thoughts to keep him company. Always ended up that way. Probably why Dean was the way he was now, though in truth he couldn't be sure he was ever any different. Just, before he had someone to tether him down, holding the rope to his proverbial kite and now he was just floating in the wind. Or whatever. Point was Dean had years of scars, lungs burned by cigarette smoke - and other - _smoke_. His liver was probably tarnished to the point of serious jeopardy. He had patterns of ink on his arms, back, chest, and silver through his ear, nipples, flesh. A whole map of little insights into what he had been and what he was. No one would notice the change.

But. Sam would. Maybe not all at once, maybe some never. But some, yeah.

There was blood on Dean's nose when he chanced a glance in his rear view mirror and it made him twitch. _Who's blood?_ That was kind of the million dollar question of the day. Right up there next to _what the fuck do zombies really exist?_ Weird. Dean had thought he was past the point of questioning whether something existed or not. But he was definitely having one of those moments, where maybe someone was going to tell him Santa Claus and unicorns were past the second star on the right and just on to fucking Neverland. It made him a little sick. And he wanted a beer. And maybe to get high.

Mostly though, he wanted to get to Sam, so he kept doing that.

Panic was settling in across this great nation of his but Dean was smart enough to know to stick to back roads. In this day and age he was pretty sure things like YouTube or twitter or whatever made it pretty damn impossible to keep things a secret. Another gas station and he saw Sam in the other patron's long floppy hair, experienced a moment of harsh flashback when he spotted a bag of M&Ms. That hadn't happened for awhile either but well, death's door and all.   
M&Ms, melted chocolate, meeting tongues, quiet moans, roaming hands. Bang bang bang and Dean bought a bag because he was a bit of a masochist like that. And sometimes he thought he could still taste Sam.

The highways were jam packed now, the drive would have been shorter that way but Dean said fuck it to speed limits and pushed his Baby to her limits. People didn't seem to know which way to go, out of Cali was heading toward it, into was hiding in a corner until it came a knocking. And it would. Sooner rather than later. Dean gave it a week, maybe a little more, probably a little less. He knew what to do, or had some vague notion at least. It was about survival now.

There was the possibility Dean had been waiting his entire life for an excuse not to save people any more. This was a bit extreme but god he'd fucking take it. For the first time in twenty nine years he was going to be damn selfish and take his brother, hide in a cabin somewhere in the middle of the forest. They'd have issues, they'd get over them and they'd fucking _live_ because Sam, dead, it wasn't something Dean was ever prepared to deal with.

This wasn't the first time Dean had been this way but he'd never been brave enough to close the distance completely. About once a year Dean found himself gravitating toward his brother because the pull was too strong and his heart was too weak. But fear of denial had temptation wavering so he didn't know what Sam looked like now. He supposed it couldn't be much worse than himself though. Would probably be better.

Who the fuck was he kidding? Sam would be gorgeous as always.

Of course than he didn't have to contemplate anymore because he was _there_. The door was right in front of him and Dean was knocking. Knocking because the door bell felt too formal, wishing he could just walk in and announce himself and grin when Sam proclaimed how happy he was to see him. It wouldn't ever work that way though. Eight years and Dean had finally come because zombies were real and this was the end of the fucking world.

-=-=-=-

"Hey Sam, look at this." Chris jabbed toward the screen with his elbow, towel shifting across wet hair as he passed. "Looks like some sort of disease, another pandemic."

"What?" Sam padded over toward the TV and rubbed at his eyes for a few moments before dropping down on the couch. "Nothing like some depressing news broadcast after sex." Crossing his arms over his chest Sam kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.

The volume was down low but the anchorman was going on about infection, highways being jammed full of cars. Sam sniffed and scratched at his forehead. "Did you see the beginning of it? What happened?"

"Nah." Chris stepped into a pair of jeans, tugging the up around his waist and shrugging. "Who the fuck knows now-a-days huh? Probably another thing just over blown, too many people with all these ideas about the end of the world." The man headed across the apartment for the kitchen. "Gonna head out soon, can I take the last cup of coffee?"

"Yeah." Sam's eyes drifted over to Chris and he watched him disappear into the kitchen. "Where you going?" A couple of years Sam had been _seeing_ Chris. That's what he called it in his mind. He didn't know all that much about the man but then he hadn't shared all that much with Chris. They got together when they could, the sex was great and they let each other live their lives. It worked. There were lots of things that Sam didn't want to explain to anyone and Chris was the kind of guy who didn't ask.

"Gotta see a man about a gig." Chris leaned against the door frame, bringing a mug up to his lips and considering Sam over the rim. "By the way, can't come by this weekend, got a thing." He pushed away from the frame, crossing the room to get his shirt.

Sam didn't bother trying to hide the fact that he was watching Chris's ass as he walked across the room, or the fact that his eyes trailed over the muscles of the man's chest. "Okay, I'll be around next week."

Dropping his feet to the floor he pushed up off the couch and wandered over to slide his arms under Chris' and press up against his back. "Call me when you're back in town?" Maybe it was a little too close to asking him to come back but there wasn't all that much consistency in Sam's life.

"Yeah, sure." Chris turned and pulled Sam in with a firm grasp of hair between his fingers. Their lips slid together and he turned Sam, pushing him up against the wall. His hands roaming down Sam's sides, slipping just under his waistline until a knock sounded at the door. "Mm, too bad." Chris murmured into Sam's mouth and detached himself.

Groaning, Sam let his head thud back against the wall. "Well, that's fucking bad timing."

Smiling at Chris, Sam brushed past him and walked a few steps backwards dragging a palm across his bare chest. He licked his lips. "Maybe they've got the wrong door." Finally turning toward the door he chuckled softly and yanked it open.

It actually took a few moments for his brain to put the pieces together. Leather jacket, freckle-dusted cheeks, broad shoulders, same piercing green eyes. Blinking, Sam squared his shoulders and tilted his head slightly trying to make himself understand. Eight years older, eight years more worn. "Dean?"

Weird, the way seeing Sam again zinged through Dean like a surge of electricity down his spine. Hearing him say his name was a guilty, sharp thrill. "Sam," he breathed and for just this moment he could pretend he wasn't running from the end of the world. For just a moment it was just _them_. Him and Sam. As it once was, as it could have been. Once.

Then it wasn't just them, an arm wrapped around Sam's middle and a man with long, light hair appeared. "Who's this? Wrong door?"

A confused smiled flitted across Sam's face. "Yeah. No." He shook his head. "This is my brother, Dean." Cheeks puffing out as he blew out a breath, Sam shifted back slightly into Christian.

"You, uh, wanna come in?" _Dean_. Sam pretty much couldn't have been more surprised if God had been standing outside his door. Eight years with a handful of phone calls and never once had Dean's shadow crossed Sam's door.

Whether it was more surprising to find Sam with someone or to find Sam with a _man_ , Dean wasn't sure. Another occasion, a different circumstance and maybe Dean would have left. Too late for that now though. "Probably best." He glanced at the guy, wondering if he'd get an introduction. He could take a stab at guessing his name, he looked like a Rick. Or... maybe a Nate.

"Should I stay?" Chris asked and it was quiet enough to be meant just for Sam, though Dean heard anyway.

"Yeah, stay..." Sam lifted his hand to Chris' and held out his other hand toward the apartment. "C'mon in. Oh, Dean this is Chris. Chris - this is - the infamous big brother Dean." There was a coldness in Sam's voice that he didn't intend but _fuck_ , eight years. Sure, he'd had a few drunk phone calls from Dean. Awkward conversations about nothing that made him feel worse than if Dean just hadn't bothered.

Chris. Dean wouldn't have guessed that. He didn't really look like a Chris. "You don't really look like a Chris." Dean blinked, frowned. He hadn't really meant to say that out loud.

"Funny that." Chris nodded and stepped into Sam.

It was an odd act of something protective and the flare of jealousy that sent through Dean was thick and sickening. Dean stepped just inside the apartment and looked around, just once; enough to establish Sam didn't have much but enough. He didn't really know what to say, how to begin, hours of driving hadn't given him much of a starting point. _Oh hey Sam, you still look good. I still love you. Zombies are attacking._ Didn't really have the makings of a great conversation. "There's a problem." He blurted out, which was just about as bad.

"Well, I didn't think you were here on a social call." Sighing, Sam closed the door and leaned back against Chris. "I guess, should we sit down?"

 _We have a problem._ They had always had problems. There'd never really been a time when Sam got along with Dean. Maybe when they were still kids but then things got confusing; complicated. The final break had been Sam leaving for college. It was like Dean had interpreted that as a door slamming. And, just like that, it was over, _they_ were over.

Sam had only told Chris enough about Dean to explain why he sometimes awoke from a nightmare screaming his brother's name. He'd told him how he didn't feel like he came from a real family how they'd almost torn each other apart because they were so different. Sam still dreamed about his father; still dreamed about the phone call from Dean telling him that John Winchester was dead.

 _And here was Dean._

Dean had been driving too long, too many hours in a row to sit. He watched them though and didn't like the way Chris sat too close and wrapped an arm around Sam’s side. If it wouldn't cause problems, Dean might have punched the guy. Or something. Dean's eyes slid over to the TV, his brow furrowing.

"This," Dean pointed at the TV and sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. "It's, fuck. Sam. It's not good." So maybe Dean was getting worse and worse at this talking thing, it may have been a little too long since he had a conversation with someone.

Sam was at a complete loss. It had to be something out-of-the-ordinary, something hunt-related or Dean would never have show up there in the first place. It wasn't like he would actually come and see Sam - just to see him. Pressing his fingers hard into his eyes for a moment Sam tried to gather his thoughts, get rid of the slight tremor in his fingers. "So, this pandemic, you've seen-" Dropping his hand Sam looked up at his brother's face. "What have you seen?"

"It's," Dean blew out a low breath and paced the length of the living room. He could feel their eyes, feel them watching, and he wondered if he seemed at all insane. Pretty good chance. He glanced at Chris, then at Sam, his heart clenched. "It's the end of the world. This pandemic? It's zombies."

Chris snorted, looking hard at Dean then back at Sam. "Man, he's fucking insane. Are you on something?" Chris turned his gaze back to Dean, frowning.

"No. I'm not on something." Dean's jaw clenched, eyes narrowing at the man. He was used to being called all sorts of thing, _Chris_ didn't have that privilege.

"Zombies?" Sam couldn't help the surprised expression on his face. "Dean, even for you that's pushing the boundaries of real. They said on the news it was some kind of infection - zombies - I mean, we know that voodoo can create a zombie from a dead body 'cause they're just putting them in some kind of stasis - but this-" he waved at the TV.

Dean looked over at Chris, expecting some surprise. There wasn't and he kind of wanted to shove his fist through the window. So apparently the _infamous big brother_ came with more of an explanation than just that.

"I ran from some. A few." Dean shrugged off his coat because it was too hot and he couldn’t seem to stop pacing. "I know what I saw. Zombies. And I'm dead serious, pun intended."

Sam scrubbed both hands over his face then dropped them to his lap. "I don't get it. Why are you here, Dean?" His eyes trailed over his brother's forearms; tattoos? Black ink over all that skin. It was all shapes, swirls, shading, designs that Sam couldn't even recognize. He followed the inked flesh until it disappeared under the material of Dean's t-shirt. His eyes were drawn to the glint of an earring. This wasn't the older brother he'd left behind when he went to school.

For some reason even the end of the world didn't seem to be enough reason for Dean to come and find him after all this time. "It's been years, why now? What do you think I can do about this?" He leaned back heavily against Chris. _Chris_ ; normal life, normal family, safe.

"Because," Dean's eyes slid between them and he stepped back. He probably shouldn't have come. Seeing Sam made Dean hurt. He was different, more muscle, longer hair, Dean wanted some time to savor the moment but there was a man at Sam's side and they looked downright domestic sitting on the couch like that. "I just thought, this is it. And it was the only place I wanted to be."

Chris coughed and shook his head. "Zombies though? Really?"

Sam only vaguely registered Chris' question his body turning automatically toward the man for a few moments before he pushed up off the couch. It had seemed like a good idea - standing - until he was there staring Dean down and not knowing what to do with his hands. Jamming his fists in the pockets of his jeans, Sam suddenly wished he had grabbed a t-shirt before answering the door. "Okay, so you don't see me for eight years and then you wake up one morning and think the world is ending so you come for a visit? That's rich, Dean. You drunk as usual?"

"I came to take you away. So that when the zombies come, so you won't die," Dean's shoulders tensed, eyes locking on his brother. He wasn't going to be treated like the fucking red headed step child. Phones worked both ways, cars worked both ways, Sam could have found him if he ever really wanted too. Sam chose his life. Dean dealt with his. "There's this cabin. It's in the middle of nowhere, in the mountains. We could go there. It'd be safe and... we'd be. You'd be. Safe." Dean's arms came up across his chest but it really wasn't much in the way of protective barriers.

"Take me aw-" Sam spun on his heel and headed over to the laundry basket to snatch out a t-shirt. He couldn't even stand there looking at Dean. The man standing there wasn't even the same as his brother, tattoos, piercings and scars on his arms that looked, well, Sam wasn't even going to start with the whole guilt thing again.

It wasn't Sam's fault things happened the way they did. Tugging the t-shirt down over his head he brushed his hair back off his forehead and padded back over to sit on the arm of the couch behind Chris. Curling his fingers around Chris' neck his eyes moved slowly back to his brother's face. "I'll be safe right here. There's no reason to think this is going to spread."

"It already has," Dean snapped. Little choice but to at this point. Walking over to the TV was good; not looking at his brother touching Chris was too much. He turned the volume up and stepped away, kept his back to them.

"Reports of the disease have now been given in Arkansas and Oklahoma. We have yet to learn the true nature of the disease but early indications suggest the infected person shows signs of..." the reporter looked down at his paper and back up. Dean recognized the fear, knew it first had. "Of, extreme blood thirst."

The TV shifted to a scene of a torn up highway, twenty car pileup and Dean sighed. "I was in Pennsylvania. Four states Sam. It spread four states in three days." He turned back to them and stared at a spot on the wall above Sam's head. "It'll be here within the week. Maybe sooner."

Sam's arm slid down so he could press his hand flat at Chris' chest. "What? I mean-" he cleared his throat. Sam knew Dean well enough to know that it must be real but _Jesus_. Zombies? "What are you gonna do? Where are you going?"

For some reason the _you_ of that sentence sounded a bit too official to Dean. It shouldn't be _you_. It should be _we_. Without Chris. Dean did not include Chris in the _we_. "Cabin." He said on an exhale and turned away. Everything he was feeling, the emotion caught in his throat, it was them before and them now. What they were and what they weren't any longer. "Colorado. Real rural area. Gonna... set up some traps. Alarms there. Ride it out maybe." If Sam didn't go with him? Dean wasn't going anywhere.

"You do know this is fucking insane right?" Chris finally spoke up once more, clearly done just observing the awkward tension. His eyes turned up to Sam than over to Dean, back to Sam. "This... it's not really happening right? It's not real."

"Sure as you're fucking my brother," Dean grumbled and scratched at a scar on his arm, dragged his thumb down the length of it because sometimes, you just had to remember. Not that he ever really forgot.

"Hey," Sam barked out, "Don't you dare." His eyes narrowed. The last thing he needed was Dean starting up a fight with Chris. In fact, Sam didn't want Dean commenting on his sex life at all - Sam figured Dean gave up that right a long time ago.

Eyes fixing up on his brother, Dean stared. For a long time, too long probably. He wasn't apologizing, not to Chris or Sam. That just wasn't who he was. Fuck this hurt though. Dean wasn't ready for the way it made his chest tight and his skin crawl. "Just stating the facts Sam." Any other time and he would have said _Sammy_. But he didn't want to hear Sam tell him not to.

"Here's the deal, in a few days this place is going to be crawling with the undead only really? Not crawling at all because these fuckers? They run. Fast. Nearly got caught by the handful I saw and they didn't stop chasing my car for a good twenty minutes until they spotted some woman and-" For the sake of his brother's eight years outside the life, Dean cut off. "There's no point in staying here. It's just waiting for death."

"And how many people are you planning on taking to this cabin of yours?" Chris said after a few quiet moments.

Dean's gut reaction was _just Sam_. But if getting Sam to come meant taking others, then. Well. No choice. "Can't fit many." It wasn't so much an answer as a place holder. His eyes flickered once more across Sam's face then he looked away.

"How far is it? How long?" Sam had no reason _not_ to believe Dean but everything in him wanted to just make the entire situation go away.

"Couple of days, less if we don't stop." Dean stepped back, turned away and looked at the TV screen. The reporter was talking about estimated death totals. It was in the millions. It would only get worse. "Gotta pick up supplies along the way."

"Chris?" Sam leaned down to press his lips to Chris' shoulder. The cotton t-shirt he was wearing was soft and smelled clean and it felt strange to even notice that in light of the decision they were facing. "Will you come with us?"

"This isn't fucking happening," Chris grumbled, hand digging up into his hair, the other settling on Sam's thigh.

Dean's stomach churned unpleasantly and he swept his gaze across the apartment. "Bathroom." He breathed, hurrying quickly toward the direction Sam pointed. He just barely made it inside, shut the door behind him and dropped his head against the door. _This_ wasn't happening. He never expected it to be easy. But he definitely, certainly, hadn't expected Chris. A boyfriend. Sam seemed to like him, seemed into him, maybe he loved him. Suddenly zombies seemed pretty damn appealing.

Chris looked up at Sam, away from the bathroom door and frowned. "Sam? Is this, real? Seriously? Zombies?"

"Looks pretty real." The images on the TV were mesmerizing. There were fast shots of people running, cameras suddenly dropping to the ground then being kicked and the picture crackling away to snow. The President had declared a state of emergency and troops had been dispatched to do what they could but it didn't seem as though they were making much progress. "Whatever it is, we'll probably be safer with Dean. Much as I hate the idea."

Sam shifted on the couch. "It's up to you. I know you and I-" Sam cleared his throat unsure of what he actually needed to say. "If you want to come, come." Staring down at Chris' face he smiled and tried to block out the noises from the TV of people screaming.

"He uh, didn't seem too on board with that idea." Chris jerked his chin toward the bathroom door. "He kind of looks like a loose cannon. Can't we just go on our own?"

"The thing is... of all the situations to be in this is the one he's probably more qualified for than anyone else on the planet. He’ll be well-armed too." Sam figured Dean was their best bet for surviving zombies; he just wasn't so sure they would survive each other.

"Right. Because of the... hunting thing." Chris nodded and exhaled slowly. "But we have a chance? I mean, if we go with him, we could survive? Look I know you and I aren't- uh, we don't do the relationship thing and that works for us but, thanks for even offering. I really don't want to be..." he trailed off and waved toward the TV. _Zombie_ hanging in the air around them.

Nodding slowly Sam smoothed Christian's hair back off his face. "Yeah, if we have a chance it's probably with him. He might sound like an ass but he'd never put anyone's life in danger." At least Sam thought that was still true.

For a few minutes Chris just stared at the TV, obviously trying to take all of what was happening in. He leaned firm and surer into Sam's side and sighed. "Man. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Let's... go with him. Fuck I can't believe this is really happening. How are you so calm about this?" Chris looked up at him wide eyes.

"I suppose because I grew up with hunting." And, Sam had spent years having nightmares about things hunting _him_. Going to college had meant an escape physically from life as a hunter but it had stayed in his mind. The first thing Sam discovered was that he couldn't pretend he didn't know what was out there. It stayed with him and because it didn't come out during the day - it came out in horrific dreams. "Don't get me wrong - I'm pretty sure half an hour from now I'm gonna be wondering what the _fuck_ is going on. But you know some of the things I've seen. This isn't as big a stretch for me as it is for you."

Sam stood and combed his fingers through his hair. "You need to go pack some stuff. I'll throw my stuff together and we'll swing by your place to pick you up. Layers of clothing, t-shirt, over shirts, your hiking boots, like camping clothes. Warmest jacket you have and a summer jacket." Sam searched through his memories of childhood trips when he went out on the road with Dean and their father. "I'll pack food from here." Holding out his hand he pulled Chris up from the couch. "You okay?"

"No. Not really." Chris half smiled up at Sam and pulled him in to brush their lips together. It was one of those life affirming kisses, just checking to ensure this was real, the world was real, and somehow things would carry on. His hand pressed into Sam's chest for a moment then he pulled back and blew out a low breath. "Okay. See ya in a few."

Dean watched. Call it morbid curiosity, and wondered if Sam's lips still tasted the same. No. Right now they'd probably taste like Chris. Dean bit his lip and turned his head away, waiting until the door clicked closed to step the rest of the way out of the bathroom.

"He coming then?" Dean asked quietly and pulled his shirt up, using the bottom to wipe off the water he'd splashed on his face.

"Yeah, he's coming. Is that gonna be a problem?" Sam's eyes dropped to Dean's stomach and to the raised scar across his skin. His brother looked like he'd been through more than his fair share of battles in the last eight years.

It was. It was going to be a big fucking problem for Dean. But not for Sam. Dean would do what he always did, deal and move on. Life was a series of blows after all, maybe some time he'd finally reach his quota. "No." He dropped his shirt and looked around the apartment, stared at the ongoing news report on the screen. "Need any help gathering supplies?" Dean asked because it felt like he needed to say _something_ to fill the void.

"What happened to your stomach?" Sam stepped closer and tugged Dean's shirt back up so he could look at the scar. His brother was always the one getting hurt, he charged in to things like nothing could ever hurt him. Obviously, he'd been wrong a few times.

Dean was hit with a thousand things all at once. Sweat musk, cologne that spoke of familiarity. A flash of hands touching, skin sliding, mouths colliding. Then the end, the fall out. _No. Dean. No._ Swallowing once didn't get his throat to work. Swallowing twice and Dean coughed. "Wrong end of a knife." He whispered and no part of him was stupid enough to step away. This was going to be it, he'd have to be satisfied living off these moments for the rest of his life - which might not be that long. He'd take it because he was just that shade of pathetic.

Sam ran his thumb over the scar remembering all the times that skin had been perfectly smooth under his touch. "Looks like it was bad. A knife on a hunt?" Tilting his head Sam looked skeptical; after all, generally the supernatural didn't attack with knives.

Touch. Damnit, Dean wasn't prepared for touching. "Not exactly," he shook his head and wondered with almost a fond smile if this would be one of those things Sam didn't let go of until he knew the answer. "Pissed off the wrong guy." It happened often enough. This one wasn't even the worse.

"Why didn't you come and see me?" Sam's fingers stopped moved over Dean's stomach and he gazed down into his brother's eyes.

 _You didn't want me._ "Too chicken shit," he mumbled and considered whether they were really gonna do this now. Really? With zombies on their door step?

Sam dropped his hand and blinked slowly then dropped his gaze. Eight years and nothing had really changed between them. "Check the cupboards for what food you want to bring and I'll get my duffel. There's a knife under the sink in the toolbox."

Brushing past his brother Sam headed down the hall to the bedroom. The duffel bag he'd used all those years ago was still stuffed into the bottom of his closet; even the canvas smell of it sent memories reeling through Sam's mind. All those wasted days in the back seat of the car watching Dean try to talk to their father and their father grunt out responses about the upcoming hunt.

Tossing the duffel on his bed Sam turned to the dresser and pulled out the usual assortment of t-shirts, over shirts, jeans - it came back to him so quickly it was frightening. That was the training instilled in them by their father; always the ex-marine.

Sam was willing to put up with this until they were safe somewhere then he wanted some answers from his brother. An answer that made more sense than _too chicken shit_. Dean had never been scared of anything in his entire life, certainly not Sam.

Sighing Sam tossed his boxers and socks into the side of the duffel and looked around the room. There wasn't much there he needed. He'd never lost of the habit keeping things to a minimum. Growing up in motel rooms did that to a kid.

He swung the duffel up over his shoulder and headed down the hallway. Glancing in the kitchen he called out to his brother as he tossed the bag by the door. "Did you find anything?"

Dean glanced down at the food items he'd deemed most worthy, easy to transport and easy to store. "Yeah. Some stuff." He ducked below the sink, pulled out the toolbox and considered the knife there. Probably wasn't going to be much help but Dean recognized it. Standing slowly he curled his fingers around the handle and frowned, trying to remember if the time in which he'd given this to his brother had really existed. Maybe he dreamed it. Maybe he dreamed the whole thing, being happy that was.

Turning, he set the knife on the counter and pursed his lips. "Got grocery bags?" He stepped out of the kitchen, eyes drifting down to Sam's bent body. His ass looked good in those jeans. Dean felt guilty just thinking it.

"Top drawer closest to the fridge," Sam said. "It's gonna take Chris about fifteen to get to his place so we don't have to leave right away. His place is a mess; it will take him a while to find his clothes." There was a half-smile on his face as he thought about it. Sam's apartment was Spartan; Chris' looked more like a tornado had gone through it.

Dean hated that he noticed Sam's smile, and the fact that it was the first he'd really seen since he showed up, and even more the fact that talking about Chris had been the reason behind it. "Chris your boyfriend?" He asked just loud enough to be heard as he moved back into the kitchen to get the grocery bags.

Sam's eyes closed and he shook his head slowly. He'd known the question would come. "I wouldn't call him that." Sam opened the closet door and tugged his jacket off the hanger then draped it over his duffel. He'd run out of reasons to be turned away from his brother so he wandered over to drop down onto the couch. "Does it matter?"

 _Yes_. "Just asking." He muttered and loaded the boxes of crackers, various foods into the bags. "You told him about hunting." It wasn't a question. Either Sam told him or Chris was the most level headed guy ever. And what the hell did _I wouldn't call him that_ mean anyway?

"What all does he know?" Dean stared at a can of tuna and took a moment to consider why it seemed too odd that Sam had tuna. Chances were, Dean's mind needed some serious help.

"I told him, yeah. Had to explain somehow why I still wake up screaming twice a week." Sam shrugged and picked at the seam down the leg of his jeans. "So, yeah, he knows about hunting, what we did when I was a kid. The traveling and the motel rooms. Told him about Dad dying and you..." Sam shifted on the couch. "Should I bring my cell?"

"Won't matter." Dean carried the bags out to the living room, setting them near Sam's bag. "What did you tell him about me?" He asked quietly, head tilted slightly to the side. He couldn't really look at Sam, not right now. Apparently the hurt came in stages; this one would be called critical.

"What are you asking me, Dean?" Sam glanced over at his brother's down-turned face. "Are you asking me if I told the guy who's _fucking_ me if you and I were... did what we did?" Sam's heart beat a little faster and he could feel that tug of nerves in the pit of his stomach.

 _Fucking_ reverberated through Dean's skull like Sam had snarled it against his ear. He was stuck on it for a minute before he looked up at the window and stared out into the sunshine. Weird how the world was falling apart out there and here he was. Weird. "Just a question Sam. Just curious." Dean thought it should be raining. That would be much more fitting.

"You're not seeing anyone." There really wasn't much question in his mind but then - it had been years, maybe things had changed for Dean.

"No." Dean scratched at his arm for a long moment. "You work?" Pretty good chance Sam wasn't interested in playing twenty questions but Dean wanted to know. Maybe something would reassure his heart that this was his brother. _Weird_. It was all a bit too much.

"Yeah, 'course. I run an animal shelter over on the west side. Didn't much care for law but turns out I'm good at fighting for what I believe in." Sam had always loved animals; brought injured ones to Dean when they were kids and relied on his brother to know what to do. Animals were innocent - people not so much.

That made Dean's lips lift in a slight smile, eyes shifting along the wall. "Good. Sorry. That you'll be, leaving it." Dean glanced down at the bags and his smile faded away.

"That's the way it goes, yeah?" Sam stared over at Dean. His brother looked uncomfortable, like he was waiting for something bad to happen, waiting to bolt for the door. "You really wanna be here? You sure don't look like you do."

For the first time in awhile Dean turned back to look at his brother. Their eyes met for a moment and just for a _flash_ Dean could imagine them somewhere else, a thousand years ago, laughing and teasing. "Yeah. I'm sure. Can't really, deal with the idea of you turning into..." Dean gestured to the TV. The reporter was repeating the same information as before, some infection, spreading fast. Dean looked back at Sam and had the oddest urge to give him a hug. He stuffed his hands in his pockets instead. "You sure you want to come with? With, Chris."

"Yeah. We gonna be like this all the time?" Sam took a step closer to his brother.

"Can't be what I'm not, Sam." Dean held his gaze, meeting the step out of his own control.

Brow furrowed, Sam half smiled. "So you're not... gonna be my brother?"

Dean's heart fluttered in his chest. "That's one thing I'll always be. For sure."

Reaching out hesitantly, Sam curled his fingers over Dean's shoulder and squeezed. When his brother didn't pull away Sam tugged him into his chest and slid his arms around his shoulder. Familiar scents assaulted his senses; leather and gun oil, the spicy smell of his brother and the faint scent of smoke and beer from some bar no doubt. Sighing, Sam pressed against his brother's almost rigid body and let his body _remember_.

It was impossible not to feel the crash of emotions and sensations of Sam against him. Heat, warmth, home, _love_. "Sam," he whispered and wrapped arms around his brother's body, squeezed tighter than necessary. _Sammy._ He was taller, more built, broader shoulders. Smelt the same though. Dean thought he probably tasted the same. He wasn't going to think about that now. Now it was Sam and touching and Dean's heart fluttered in a way it hadn't in years. Sam in his arms, Dean closed his eyes and savored.

Burying his face in his brother's neck, Sam tightened his arms. "I missed you," he mumbled. He figured Dean probably wouldn't believe him but it was the truth. There'd been a time when Sam would have laughed at someone who said they'd ever spend eight years apart, all those long summer days- and nights. He cupped the back of Dean's neck for a few moments then pulled back slowly.

Dean didn't want to let Sam go, never did, but Sam was pulling away and that was that. Reaching up, Dean's palm came to rest on Sam's jaw. His skin was smooth, silky soft. "Yeah. Me too." He said quietly and dropped his hand before Sam could pull back from it. "You look good." Dean breathed and stayed in place, not remotely tempted to move away, tempted to move closer.

"You look different," Sam smiled slightly and reached up to touch a silver earring. "Tattoos and piercings?" There were scars everywhere that Sam could see. Sliding his hands down his brother's arms he slid his thumb along strange scars on his forearms. "What are these from?" It had never bothered Sam to touch Dean. Never. That had probably been part of the problem; part of the reason they'd always been so drawn together.

Eyes dropping down to Sam's fingers on his skin, Dean wet his lips and furrowed his brows. What was happening? This? All over again. Sam and want and need and fucking zombies. One hell of a week. "Myself." He answered honestly because he didn't lie to Sam. There were lines he didn't cross, lying to Sam, that was one. "Bad different?" Dean asked quietly, eyes lifting back up to his brother.

"Bad? No. No, just different." Dean never looked bad. He looked tired and used up, like he'd been on the road too long, like he was still searching for something. Those eyes were the same eyes that Sam had gazed into his whole life. "Wait, what do you mean yourself?" Looking down at the marks on Dean's arms, Sam rubbed at them like he could erase them; erase the answer he didn't want to hear.

"Rough patch." Shrugging, Dean's hand came out, curled around Sam's forearm. "Few rough patches. Sam." Dean swept his gaze across his brother's features. He knew the shape of his nose, the curve of his jaw; he picked out the differences just to tell himself he could. "Should we..." he wet his lips and swayed forward, slid back before the action could be misinterpreted.

There was a pinch of hurt squeezing at Sam's heart. _Few rough patches_. Averting his eyes Sam ran his hand through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. I just gotta... well, I'm ready." Backing away slowly Sam turned and headed over to pull his boots on. "Chris should be ready by now."

There was a lot of talking to do. Sam could feel it hanging around them like a cloud, heavy and thick. But now wasn't the time.

Dean had kind of forgotten about Chris. He wished it had stayed that way, and that Sam was touching him again. "Yeah. Okay." He nodded and turned, grabbing the bags of food.

"Sam?" He stood, shifting the bags between his hands. "I know it's not, I'm just. I'm sorry, for. You know. For," Dean exhaled, air shaky and tense and shook his head. "Let's load up the car." Dean stepped forward, pushing the door open with his elbow and scanning the sunny street.

Sam stared at the hard line of Dean's back for a few moments. Now, _there_ was a conversation they needed to have. They'd needed to have that conversation eight years ago and it just hadn't happened. Things had a way of spiraling out of control like that for Winchesters; always something more important to do. Always another hunt, someone else who needed them more than they needed each other. "I'm guessing we're taking your car?"

Half glancing over his, Dean's eyebrows curved up as if to say _do you really need to ask_. "Cleared out some space in the back, should be good for your stuff." Scrunching his face up, Dean forced himself to continue. "And, Chris' stuff." Dean juggled the bags in his hands and got the trunk open, shifting his bags around to add the additional. "When we get there, we'll do assessment, a few supply runs. You, me and your lover, that ought to be fun." Dean blinked, eyes widening. Shit, he hadn't really meant to say that out loud. His shoulders tensed and he waited for the fall out.

"You weren't here for eight years." Sam's voice was gentle even though his brother's words hurt. "We need to talk about this - it's just not. Now's not the time. But this time? We're _going_ to talk about it." Moving slowly Sam walked over to the passenger door and climbed in the car.

"You didn't want me," Dean said to the back of the car, quiet enough Sam would have to be supersonic to hear. So he didn't. And Dean crossed to the front seat to slide behind the wheel, to join the brother he hadn't seen for eight years - and his lover - on a trip a few states away to hide from zombies. Yeah, another day in the life.


	2. Chapter 2

"So, really? You drive around in this car?" Chris slid his finger over the tear in the back seat and scowled.

Dean's eyes snapped to the rear view mirror, narrowing behind the sunglasses. "Chris? I'ma save your ass, and not complain about it. But you insult my car and you can fuckin’ take your chances with the zombies. We clear?"

Chris coughed and leaned forward, glancing over at Sam. "Sensitive issue?"

"There's not another thing on the planet Dean loves more than his car. Living or otherwise." Sam glanced back at Chris and reached up to mess up his hair.

"That's not true," Dean said quietly, jaw clenched. His fingers curled around familiar worn leather and considered punching Chris. His head was just kind of _there_. Personal space. Only one person in his life got to break the personal space. Same person he loved more than his car.

"Oh? You uh, got someone then?" Chris asked and Dean wanted to give him credit for trying. But not as much as he wanted to pull over and chuck him out. Sam's temporary truce was the only thing keeping him from doing just that.

"No." Dean breathed and gave his brother a look. It was left to be interpreted; he'd give Sam the chance to decide what it meant. "You two uh, been... whatever. Long?"

"Chris and I are friends. We met at a coffee shop where he was singing. He's got an awesome voice." There had been a brief flaring of tempers at Chris' place when the man had been waiting outside for them with his guitar. In the end he'd agreed to stay in the back seat all the time if the guitar came along and it was, in fact, currently sharing the seat with him.

Sam leaned back against the door and pulled one leg up on the seat. "I don't think he liked me at first, thought I was one of those sensitive new-age kinda guys." Sam laughed.

"Well you kind of are man, you do fuckin' yoga. Anyone who knows the downward facing dog, c'mon," Chris laughed, hand slapping into Sam's arm.

Dean wanted to knock it away when it lingered too long. Stupid Chris sharing inside jokes and making Sam laugh. Dean used to be able to do that. Maybe. He thought so.

"Remember the first time we went out? You took me to that Thai place with those twin waitresses who spent the whole time dropping shit by our table just so we could see down their shirts when they bent to get whatever?" Chris laughed louder and settled back on the seat. Dean kind of wanted to scream something about zombies and, yeah, kick him out.

"They were after you not me." Sam felt his cheeks color up and dropped his gaze to the seat between him and Dean. His eyes drifted over Dean's face then he looked out the window for a while. "It's so strange, everything still looks so normal here." The traffic had picked up and every now and then when they drove through a residential area they could see that some of the houses were empty. There were still some stores open but things were starting to close up. "It's like people either don't believe it - or they're gonna just stay and hole up."

"It's hard to accept this kind of thing." Dean said quietly and reached out, flicking through the radio stations. It was nothing but static. Dean didn't like what that could mean. "Some people probably won't believe until it's staring them down." Dean turned them down a back road and sped up. It was past the time of cops pulling people over. The fact that they were heading into the storm, it wasn't helping matters. "Nowhere to run really. No way to escape it."

"Morbid much?" Chris muttered, eyes turning from the window to Dean. "Sam, you sure you two are related? I'm failing to see the similarities."

In Dean's mind, he didn't even leave Chris a shot gun when he kicked him out. His fingers tightened on the wheel and he clenched his jaw. There were few things Dean knew for _sure_. Being Sam's brother? That was his alone.

Sam smiled over at Dean but his brother's eyes were fixed on the highway ahead. "We were always different. When I was a kid I remember telling my Dad that I didn't want to be a hunter and he was so pissed. _Holy_ shit. You'd have thought I told him I was a serial killer or something." Sam shook his head. "Dean? He was all over it. He loves killing things and shooting shit up."

"Damn, that's fucked up." Chris snorted and Dean caught the slight bounce of his hair as he shook his head.

Anger pulsed hot and heavy up his spine and Dean's head twitched to the side for just a moment. "Only thing I was good at. Bet you're fucking grateful for it now." Dean looked up to the rear view mirror once more, daring Chris to say otherwise.

"I'm not saying I'm not. Doesn't stop it from being a bit fucked. Even Sam can admit that."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "We're both grateful, Dean. You know that."

Sam slipped his hand over Chris' and widened his eyes in an attempt to communicate that he should drop the subject. "Anyway, when we were kids Dean was everything that I wasn't. You know strong, fast, handsome, the girls loved him. I was a mess, all arms and legs and too tall and way too skinny. Dean was definitely the social butterfly."

Dean snorted and looked away. "Don't lie Sam, the girls loved you more. They wanted me for the bad boy affect. They wanted you because you knew just how to make them swoon. Besides, my handsome was never anything compared to your gorgeous." It had been eight years since someone else rode in his car, so that could be what was to blame for the level of comfort that had him speaking his mind. He could feel the awkward moment stretching out between them.

"Damn, you weren't lying about the..." Chris trailed off around a cough and something about it had Dean's foot slamming hard down into the brake. The tires skidded to a halt and Chris rocked forward. "Jesus Christ, lunatic."

Dean didn't spare energy on Chris, turned to look at Sam instead. "He knows?"

Sam tried to push himself back up off the dashboard. His shoulder was already aching from slamming into the hard surface. Shifting round on the seat Sam rubbed at his shoulder. "What the _fuck_ , Dean? What's your problem?"

"What all does he know Sam?" Dean's jaw clenched, eyes widening behind his sunglasses. "You give him all the little details? Tell him how our first kiss happened? How it was raining the first time I put my hand down your pants? How I was never eno-" Dean cut himself off, sucked in a sharp breath and kicked the door open, stepping out and slamming it shut hard behind him. He just, needed a moment. Because this thing, the him and Sam thing, it was _theirs_ and this, _Chris_ , who wasn't even Sam's boyfriend got to know. That wasn't right.

The sound of the door slamming nearly split Sam's head in half. "Well. Guess you know that now."

Sam had told Chris that he and his brother had entered into dangerous territory with each other, he'd told him about the way it felt and how confusing it all was. Of course, he hadn't gone into any details. The things that happened between them - the way that they had touched each other - _that_ was just for them. An awkward smile on his face Sam shrugged at Chris. "I better go talk to him."

"Sorry, Sam, I didn't realize he was uh, so um... unstable?" Chris gave him a small, apologetic smile.

"He's not unstable," Sam snapped. "He's been alone a long time." For some reason Chris' words sat wrong with Sam. "I'll be back in a bit."

Climbing out of the car Sam took a deep breath and walked over to where Dean was standing. "Hey." He hooked his finger through Dean's belt loop, done that his whole life. It brought a smile to his face, the way it was so automatic. "I didn't tell him any of that, just that we. Well, that we crossed some lines. I had to explain... some things to him."

"What things?" Dean asked quietly, anger already forgotten. Happened pretty easily where Sam was concerned. Dean side stepped until his hip pressed against Sam's. But he kept his eyes on the horizon, it was deserted, they were nowhere. The world was ending and all Dean could think about was getting closer to his brother. "Sorry," he added when his brother blew out a low breath. "I just. Not so good sometimes. Always. With the words." Dean shrugged and turned his eyes to Sam, pushing his glasses up to keep his eyes shielded.

"You're fine - you and Chris don't know each other - and let's face it, it's not the best of circumstances." Sam rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. "I had nightmares for a long time, still do. I used to wake up calling your name." Sam's fingers tightened on Dean's belt loop. "One night he asked and I just. Well. I guess I needed to talk about you."

 _Nightmares._ Dean should have been there. He should have been the one to hold Sam and make it better. "Sam," he breathed because he didn't know what else to say.

Turning, Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed. He closed his eyes because he didn't want to know if Chris was watching from the window. He probably was. Dean placed his hand, fingers spread wide on the small of Sam's back. "Did it help to talk?" He asked against Sam's shoulder.

"A little. Yeah. I just really missed you - was like part of me was gone. What I needed. What I _need_ is to talk to you." Sam turned his face into Dean's neck again, lips brushing the rough skin. "I know we can't do it now," he murmured, "but please, sometime."

"Yes." Dean whispered, and it was both an answer to the request and something pleased, Sam's lips and his skin. Something, somewhere far in the distance, screeched. Tires probably, judging from the following crash. Dean pulled back and looked that way than looked back toward Sam. "We should go."

"Okay." There was a long way to go yet.

-=-=-=-

After the mini melt down it was silent. Chris seemed to have learned his lesson, Dean was pretty damn grateful for it. Plus they passed the crash - possibly the one he'd heard before - and it was a bit sobering. Seeing dead bodies, that would do it to a person. Helped Dean though, whatever it was - this disease - was bite transferred only. No need to speed past cemeteries then. One glance at Sam told him his brother had made the same conclusion, it was comforting to know they were on the same page.

It was near nightfall, near the edge of California, hours of silence before Chris spoke up. "What about my family?"

Dean had enough of a sympathy streak to glance in the mirror, catch Chris' reflection and sigh. He looked toward Sam, the hundredth or so time for the duration of the drive. "Where do they live?" He asked quietly, eyes scanning the almost darkness.

"Texas." Chris whispered.

As much as Dean could extend sympathy in the way of a hunt, there was going to be a lot of loss in the world right now and that wasn't going to end. Dean didn't have to worry, he had the only person that mattered right here with him. And he couldn't work up the words to tell Chris it was probably too late for them. Oklahoma was right by Texas after all, that state would be completely consumed. Eyes shifting over to his brother once more, Dean gave the slightest shake of his head.

"What about my family?" Chris asked again, louder, leaning forward.

Turning quickly on the seat Sam and climbed over the front seat to settle by Chris and tried to pull him into his arms. "Chris, it would have been too late to call," he murmured, "before we even hit the road." Chris struggled against Sam's arms for a moment then settled against his chest.

"This went so quickly, we just didn't know fast enough. Maybe they went somewhere too - I mean you don't know they didn't right?" Sam pressed Chris' head against his shoulder and leaned back against the door.

"Maybe I could call?" Chris said quietly.

Dean could see the man's hand curl in Sam's shirt and he frowned. Ignored the jealousy to keep himself sane.

"Here," Dean shifted in the seat and pulled up his cell phone. He could be an ass, could tell Chris it wasn't likely the lines were still up, but he didn't.

"Thanks," Chris reached out for it and dialed the number. A few minutes later he left a message and slowly lowered the phone. It was silent for a few minutes, and Dean flinched when he heard the hitch in Chris' breath. "It's, just. It's too late. Right? Just tell me. Honestly."

Sam's eyes found Dean's in the rear view mirror then he closed them. "Yeah, Chris, unless they had somewhere to go - it's probably too late." Sam's heart clenched tightly in his chest. He couldn't imagine what Chris was feeling, his only family - the only people he really cared about where in the car.

"Stop the car," Chris said quietly.

"I really think-"

"Stop. The goddamn. Car." Chris growled.

Dean had to give the guy a little credit for sounding semi-intimidating. He pulled over, despite his gut instinct not too, slipped the car into park and turned off the ignition. Chris was outside in the next beat and Dean turned to watch him stalk off into dusk, kicking angrily at gravel. Pity shot hot and sharp through Dean and he finished the turn in his seat, meeting Sam's eyes. "Go on," he jerked his head that way. Sam didn't need his permission, Dean felt stupid for giving it so he looked away.

Sam slid across the seat and out the back door. It didn't take him long to catch up with Chris, he could hear his footsteps, the way the gravel and sand grated under his feet. "Chris?"

"I just need a minute." Chris' hand shot out to the side, shoulders tensing. He inhaled shakily and his head lifted to scan the horizon. Then he spun toward Sam, eyes wide. "What the fuck is all this man? How the fuck does this type of shit happen? It's not... this is movies and bad TV. This isn't real life."

Blinking rapidly for a few moments, Sam shifted his weight. "I know. Believe me - I remember when I first found out about things like this - Chris - the thing is you don't have the luxury of time to work with here. Shit's gonna just blindside you and it's gonna feel like everything's all fucked up. It is fucked up." Sam's hands fell to his sides.

A harsh laugh left Chris' lips and he shook his head. "This is- _fuck_ this is so beyond fucked up Sam. Zombies? The end of the world? Your crazy ass brother swooping in and talking about some cabin in Colorado where we can fucking _ride it out_? What's the point? Everyone's dead. My mom." Chris choked on the word and spat into the ground.

"My mom is probably some fucking _zombie_ and I'm just supposed to take it all in?" Chris wiped angrily at the tears on his cheeks, half stepping toward Sam.

Sam didn't know what to say. He'd been there, maybe not to this extreme but he could still remember how he'd felt the night Dean had told him that monsters were real - that all the bad nasty shit out there he thought wanted to get him, _did_ want to get him. He could still feel the way his stomach had dropped and the cold burn of disbelief because disbelief was easier than facing reality.

Stepping closer Sam reached out and threaded his fingers through Chris' to pull gently. "You just gotta keep breathin' and try to stay alive." Sam shrugged then his head tilted to the side. A blur of motion behind Chris' shoulder caught his attention at the same time as he heard footsteps. Yanking hard on Chris' hand he whirled the man around behind him and dropped into a half crouch to yank the knife out of his boot.

Dean was rooting in the trunk for something to eat when he heard it. Distinct and clear. And just like that his shot gun was in hand and thank whatever fucked up thing was out there that he'd put real bullets in. Four quick strides and he lined up the shot, pulled the trigger and hit straight through the forehead. The zombie froze, lingered for just a moment and dropped.

"Fuck, they move fast," he breathed, slightly shocked that one was already here. It was less time than he thought.

" _Fuck_ ," Chris stepped back, eyes impossibly wide now. "That was just, and you just, how the fuck did you make that shot?"

Now Dean, he didn't like Chris and he probably never would. Not all the way anyway. But he felt the swell of pride in the pit of his stomach and smiled just slightly. "Years of doing the same thing. Come on, let's go. There'll be more."

Sam stowed his knife and straightened up slowly. His eyes were riveted to the corpse, the way it had fallen heavy, like a ton of bricks. The eyes had been so red, wild, a rage in them that somehow Sam hadn't expected. His eyes gazed out into the darkness; it suddenly didn't seem so safe.

"Come on," he turned and grabbed Chris' arm and pulled him into motion. "Back in the car."

"Jesus Christ." Chris stumbled back to the car, allowing Sam to lead the way. "Holy shit this is real. This is really fucking happening. Holy _fuck_."

Dean couldn't help a slight chuckle as he turned, heading back to the trunk. He grabbed a packet of candy, there were still M&Ms in his coat pocket but those were - he was just saving them. He snatched up a bag of chips and tucked three sodas - lukewarm but they'd deal - under his arm, kept the shot gun in hand and used his elbow to close the hood.   
Sliding back behind the wheel Dean tossed the candy in back to Chris. "For the shock."

"Shock? The, candy?" Chris looked wildly around and Dean wondered if he was expecting another zombie to turn up.

"Sam?" He called because his brother hadn't gotten in the car yet and he _wanted_ him up front but he wasn't going to ask.

Pulling the back door open Sam slid in beside Chris. "Okay, we're good Dean."

Settling back again against the seat Sam took the candy from Chris and opened the packet handing him some small pieces of chocolate. "Here, eat some, you'll feel better. You're probably in shock." Leaning across in front of the man Sam locked the door, "we're safe now, Dean's gonna keep driving for a while."

Just the slightest pang of resignation and Dean schooled it away, stored it down where all his other emotions lived. The Dean Winchester pit of untapped, unaddressed feelings. Then they were back on the road and Dean fell into something comfortable. Familiar. Endless expanse of blacktop pavement, one goal in mind, safety.

"Did you see the way he ran?" Chris muttered, voice shaky and a bit too crazy. "I mean he just, it just, one second it wasn't there, then it was. Oh Jesus Christ. This is just, way. Way. Way too much. Fuck."

"Okay, Chris, you need to calm down." Sam shifted closer and reached out over the seat, "Dean gimme one of those sodas." Taking the can Sam popped the top open and held it out until Chris took it. "Just drink a little bit of this."

Sam ran his fingers through Chris' hair. "I know it's too much, but you're gonna be okay right now alright? We couldn't be with anyone better okay? I remember," Sam settled back against the seat and slid his arm over Chris' shoulders, "when I was little one Halloween I was convinced that vampires were gonna come and get me. You know - my brother sat up all night with a wooden stake that he made out of some wood from the backyard. He promised me that he would stay awake all night and he did - every time I woke up he was there, just stroked my hair and told me to go back to sleep." Sam smiled and leaned his head against Chris'. "We'll get through this," he murmured softly.

A small smile played across Dean's lips and he kept it there by not looking in the mirror because he knew Sam. He knew his brother would be comforting Chris with touches. He'd once been on the receiving end of those.

"Vampires," Chris huffed but he sounded calmer at least. "Jesus, this world is so fucked up."

Dean chuckled quietly. "You have no idea."

-=-=-=-

"Sam?" Dean leaned into the backseat, reaching over Chris and gently shaking his brother's shoulder. It pained him, sharp little stab in his heart to see them like that. Another emotion for the pit o' Winchester. "Hey, Sam, wake up."

"Yup." Sam lifted his head from the seat and blinked slowly. "M'awake," he said quietly.   
Rubbing his hand gently on Chris' chest when the man moaned, Sam turned to look out the window. "Gas station? Is there anything moving?"

Looking away to shove down the further up creep of unwanted pain, Dean shook his head. "No one's around. Gotta get gas though, need you to keep an eye out while I get things running and uh, Chris can raid the mini-mart, see what food we can get." He stepped back from the car and stood, stretched his back. Dean was really fucking tired, past the point of exhaustion. But they couldn't stop, not now.

Nodding, Sam stroked Chris' hair gently. "Hey, music man. You gotta get up." Nosing into Chris' thick blond locks, Sam grinned when Chris swatted at him.

Dean was already working on the pump, relieved when it took his card. But he heard Chris' sleepy, "shit, this is still happening?" Dean snorted and rolled his eyes at the same time. Yeah, he thought the same thing just about every morning waking up.

Chris sat up and stretched, looking around with nervous eyes. "What's happening?"

"Pit stop - need you to go in and get some food, supplies. You awake enough for a list?" Sam smiled and stretched his leg out. "Shit man, you put my leg to sleep."

"Not my fault you're Mr. Ginormus," Chris grumbled and climbed out of the car, slowly looking around the empty landscape. "List? What do we need?"

"Coffee," Dean grunted and looked away when he saw Sam's hand touch Chris' midsection as he climbed out.

Chris laughed. "Yeah, coffee. And?"

"I think I might be paralyzed down the left side of my body." Sam limped around to the passenger door and leaned in the open window to grab the shotgun. "Bottled water, dry snacks, coffee. When Dean's gassed up I'll come in and help."

Dean opened his mouth to tease Sam, tell him to stop whining. Chris beat him to it. "Quit whining Sam, you know you like me on top of you." He smirked and turned, heading for the mini-mart.

It was impossible not to watch him go. It was either that or look at Sam and Dean couldn't look at Sam right now. He was pretty sure, even after eight years, Sam could still read him like a book. "Already checked inside, he's okay," he muttered and walked to the back of the trunk, pulling out two large containers to fill so they wouldn't have to stop at another station for awhile.

"How are _you_ doing?" Sam's eyes scanned the horizon then flicked over to Dean's face briefly. He knew this had to be hard for Dean and he knew that Dean would never say it was. One of those unspoken family laws that Sam had spent years trying to break himself of - don't talk about things - especially things you feel.

"It's, hard." Dean dragged a hand up through his hair, twisted his fingers around the stud in his ear. Sharp thrill of pain and he looked down at the ground. "Wasn't really part of the plan." _Chris wasn't part of the plan._ "Tired. Worn. Just want to get somewhere safe." Dean wanted this whole fucking thing to be over and done with, but he wasn't entirely sure what all that meant. "And you?" He asked and looked at his brother. The early rising sun caught in his hair, made it shine, Dean looked away and registered _longing_.

"Scared?" Sam laughed softly. "Don't know how to help Chris. He's fine one minute then the next he's all crazy." Turning slowly Sam scanned the area around them for movement.

Taking a deep breath he glanced at the store and saw Chris moving around through the windows. "It's hard being here with you and him." Sam licked his lips and smiled softly. Sam had pretty much figured he'd never see Dean again. When he'd received only a phone call after their father had died - Sam gave up thinking there might be a reason for them to see each other. Now, here they were.

"You really care for him." It wasn't a question. Dean didn't want an answer. So he moved on.

"I would have come. Some point, even without the zombie apocalypse. Just wanted, didn't want you to see-" Dean cut himself off, letting Sam finish the statement for himself. Didn't want Sam to see him like this. Didn't want Sam to know how broken he was.

"We waited too long." Sam was more than willing to take half the blame for them not getting together sooner. He could have called Dean, could have asked his brother to come and see him. He _could_ have told Dean how much he needed him.

"Is it too late for you and me?" Sam’s eyes were still moving over the land around them, his body completely aware of where Dean was.

Pursing his lips, Dean could feel the swell of panic and fear and it had nothing to do with undead hunting them down. "God." He blew out a low breath and put the nozzle back on its hook. "I hope not," Dean murmured. He knelt, twisting the cap on the gas containers. He didn't see how it was possible with Chris there, no matter what the man knew. Why wouldn't Sam want to be with someone without the complications of not so minor things, like oh, _brothers_ and all. "Is it?" He asked, pushing up to his feet and carrying the containers to the trunk.

"I don't know. I just don't want to spend the rest of my life without my brother." Sam walked around the pumps to stand on the other side. "I'm not gonna just - Chris wasn't a place holder. He's a good man and a better friend than I am." He brushed his hair back off his forehead.

It was enough of an answer. Dean wanted to blame his exhaustion for the sick churn of his stomach but he couldn't. "I'm always going to be your brother. Always. If nothing else comes then, that's just. That's." Dean gestured and shrugged, leaning back against the car.

"I can look out here, if you want you to go help him out." _Please stay_. Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head.

"Okay," Sam held out the shotgun, fingers brushing against Dean's when he handed it over. He wanted to tell Dean that things would work out, be what Dean wanted, but he just wasn't sure anymore. _Eight years._

Sam headed over to the store and pulled the door open. "Chris, want me to take some of this out to the car?" Chris had piled some bags full of food and first aid supplies by the front door.

"Yeah, I think I've got just about everything we can use." Chris turned to him and half smiled. "Even got the coffee brewing, thank god the power’s still on here. How does Dean take his coffee?"

"Black." Sam wandered over to the shelf with an extra bag and filled it with instant coffee packets. When the power ran out they could always boil water. "There are some thermos' over here I'll fill them." Dropping the bag of coffee by the door Sam moved through the aisles to the coffee maker. "How you doing?"

Chris shrugged and snatched a pastry from the counter, tearing it open. "Probably about as good as expected in this situation?" Glancing over at Sam, Chris sighed. "How are things... with your brother? This whole thing, god, it's gotta be rough on you."

Shrugging, Sam opened up a thermos and stared down at the coffee machine as the brown liquid dripped into the pot. "It's okay, it's hard. We never. Well, we never talked about what happened before so it's kind of there like this big fuckin' rock between us. I'm not even sure what he thinks about it all now. So crazy," he murmured. _So crazy_ to be so close to someone and then lose them so completely. It still made Sam's chest hurt to even think about it.

"You guys should talk." Chris said quietly and stepped closer to Sam, resting a hand on his back. "Me being here, it complicates things huh?"

"No." Sam frowned over his smile. "Well, okay a little but I like having you here." Leaning down Sam pressed his lips to Chris'. In all the chaos he couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed him. Strange.

Chris stepped into Sam, pulling him in deepen the kiss, transferring all the fear and adrenaline from the last twenty four hours into the kiss. His arms wrapped around Sam, tugging him in harder.

Moaning quietly Sam shifted along the counter and spread his legs to let Chris settle against his body. It was a little bit of being alive, sliding his tongue forward to taste the sweetness of Chris's mouth - candy, or soda and then the underlying familiarity of the man. Sliding his hand up Sam tangled his fingers in Chris' hair, pulling just enough to make the man press harder into the kiss.

-=-=-=-

Dean watched too long. Watched until his eyes pricked with tears and he had to resist the urge to drive the butt of the shotgun through the glass. _Fuck_ this hurt worse than the time he broke the mirror in his motel room and used the jagged piece to drive along his forearm. The bell chimed above the door when he pulled it open. He cleared his throat regardless. "We should head out." His tone was flat, lifeless, he knew this. It was fitting; right there with the way his heart felt so close to flat line. Dean ducked down and grabbed two of the bags there, turned and left the shop.

Groaning quietly Sam pulled away from the kiss and let his head fall back. "Fuck." It wasn't like he actually _wanted_ Dean to see shit like that - it was just a natural reaction. _Chris_. He'd been who Sam went to for years now. Okay, so they didn't live together and have two point five kids and a picket fence - but he knew he could trust Chris. Chris had been there when Sam needed him and Sam figured now - he could maybe return the favor.

"Yay more awkward car times." Chris half smiled and sighed, wetting his lips. "Man, and I really just want to fuck you right now. This kind of sucks." He released a small chuckle and stepped toward the thermoses to finish putting the lids on.

Sam adjusted himself in his jeans and blew out a breath. He had a distinct feeling that sex wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. "I'll grab the rest of the bags." Walking slowly back to the front door Sam bent down and snagged the rest of the bags and shouldered the door open. Dean was already trying to fit stuff into the trunk. "Got room for more?" He dropped the bags by Dean's feet and peered into the trunk.

"Yeah, I'll make it work." Dean reached down to grab the extra bags, pulling them up and stuffing the items in. It took some negotiating but he made it work like he said it would and wished everything else was that easy. His eyes remained fixed on the items as he sorted through, making mental tallies of their new acquisitions. "That everything?" He asked when it no longer made a difference if he moved one box from one side to the other.

"Yup," Sam leaned against the fender. "Chris made you some coffee, power was still on - he's filling thermoses. Dean, I'm sorry about-" he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

"No need," Dean stood and closed the trunk with too much force, flinching at the noise. He glanced up at his brother and wished he hadn't. One, Dean's eyes were still wet so that look was pretty obvious. Two, Sam's lips were kiss swollen still and that only gave him too clear ideas how intense the kiss had been.

Dean looked away and turned, heading for the driver's side. "Let's get this show on the road." He didn't look over when he heard footsteps, knew it was Chris and that was enough.

Sam dragged his hand off his neck and swore softly. Sometimes, there was no way to fix something.

-=-=-=-

Sam had been leaning out the passenger window for miles, eyes running over the buildings in search of a sporting goods story or a hunting shop. Dean wanted to stock up on ammunition and maybe some more camping gear before they headed out into the country side. "There!" Sam's hand shot out the window and he pointed toward a big warehouse type store just off the road.

Pulling over, Dean parked in a wide open area, easy and quick access if need be. He wanted out of the car, needed out, was glad the excuse to do something that would take all his attention. Climbing out, Dean popped the trunk and shifted items around until he came up with two guns, tucked them under his arm and slipped bullets into his pocket. He closed the trunk quietly, he wanted to slam it, he wanted to tilt his head back and fucking scream. He didn't.

"Here," Dean offered one gun to Sam, eyes on the ground and waited until another pair of boots came into his line of sight. "Chris." He offered the second gun to him and looked up, meeting his eyes. "You aim for the head. Ever shoot a gun before?"

"Only a BB gun when I was a kid," Chris grasped the weapon and looked around uncertainly.

"Well. Hopefully it won't come to that. Let me go check out the inside first, I'll give you a signal when it's safe to come." Dean's skin was crawling. He ignored it and swept his gaze across the parking lot as he headed for the shop. It was eerie, how deserted this place was.

"You think there's zombies around here?" Chris asked Sam quietly, eyes darting opposite directions.

"Who knows. We'd better assume there are then nothing will go wrong." Sam rolled his shoulders to get rid of some of the tension. Since the first attack he'd felt a bit like he was on alert the entire time. Of course, he wasn't - and out of all of them - Dean was the only one who hadn't slept yet.

Chris watched Dean disappear inside the store and shifted the gun in his hand. "What if there's some in there?"

"Dean will be fine - you'd just best run in whatever direction he does." Sam smirked slightly and bumped his shoulder against Chris', "come on - let's head over that way."

-=-=-=-

The inside of the shop was just as deserted and Dean walked slow enough not to hear his own footfalls. This place, here, Dean never could have pictured it. Roaming the aisle of an abandoned store, the air thick and lingering with the noises that had likely filled it just a couple of days ago. Dean grabbed a water bottle and tossed it in his hand, frowned down at it for a moment before chucking it hard across the store. It clattered in the far corner, echoing sharply around him. Dean listened for a few minutes, sucked in a shaky breath, released it when nothing happened. It was safe and he stepped back to the door.

He could see Sam's shoulder brushing continuously against Chris' as they walked toward the shop. Dean looked down at his shotgun and took a moment to hate the world. Then, like always, like he always did, he forced the moment to pass and pushed the door open. "It's all clear. Let's make this as fast as possible." He didn't hold the door open, just turned and walked down the aisle. Fucking life. Maybe he'd just get Sam and Chris safe in the cabin then go on some kamikaze quest to kill as many zombies as he could before giving in. At least Sam would be safe.

"Chris, look for some sleeping bags, the warmest you can find - it'll be on the label." Sam headed off in the opposite direction to look for some snare wire and other equipment. His eyes followed his brother until he disappeared behind a counter near the guns. Dean didn't look so good. He had that strained look that made Sam worry, made Sam's gut turn a little.

It was quiet work, gathering supplies, piling them by the front door. It was probably too much for his car, from here on out it'd be a tight fit and they'd either need to fill up space in the back seat or in the front. Dean had his idea on the subject but he didn't offer it. Now would be a good time for some landmines. As it was they'd have to rig up some sort of warning system, in case the zombies did manage to track them to the cabin.

Stepping up beside his brother, Dean rubbed his fingers along the stubble on his jaw. He couldn't remember when he'd last shaved. Weird. Hell though, he couldn't remember when he'd last _showered_. "We're gonna need some type of long term security," Dean said quietly, turning to scan his gaze out the windows. "There's this military base in Colorado Springs, along the way. Think it might be worth stopping at?" His eyes drifted for just a moment from the windows over to his brother.

Sam's eyes moved from Dean to Chris then back again. _Always know where everyone is._ "If you think it's a good idea. Yeah." Sam reached out for Dean's wrist. "Are you okay? You look tired. Maybe I should drive for a while." That was as close as he dared get to telling his brother he looked like he was getting too close to that _edge_.

"Haven't slept for..." Dean considered the blur of days in his mind. How long had it been since he first saw the zombies? How long had it been since he couldn't feel the heavy press of his heart in his chest? Frowning, Dean looked away, but didn't take his arm from Sam's touch because he was a glutton for things like that. For Sam, really. "Four or five days. Just gotta, get us there." Dean looked up into Sam's eyes again and swept across the features. _Say something. Fix this._ If he just knew who could do that. "I'll be," _better_ , no, not likely, "I'll sleep when we get there."

"Dean, you're the one we need to be alert. I'm. I'm out of practice and Chris doesn't know anything. Just let me drive for a while. Why don't you go and get settled in the back seat and Chris and I will bring everything out to the car." Hesitating, fighting his instinct for just a few moments, Sam gave in and slipped his hand over Dean's cheek. "Hey, I need you."

"No. Not really." Dean met Sam's eyes for a long moment. He knew his brother, knew it would come back in the line of danger. Push came to shove and Sam would do just fine on his own. And then he'd have Chris. And Dean hated himself for pitying himself. _Chris and I._ Looking away, Dean inhaled, held it, stepped back. His heart clenched in his chest and he slowly closed his eyes, felt the hot burn of a single tear down his cheek. _Damn_. "Gonna get stuff out there, tell Chris we're leavin' in five." Dean felt the drag of his boot along the tile floor and opened his eyes, wondering if Sam could see straight through to his soul. Then he turned and didn't have to wonder anymore.

"Dean, _God_ , please..." _Don't do this._ Sam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then stepped into his brother. "This was never about you and I. Well, it was but not the way you think. I have _always_ needed you, my whole life. The last eight years-" Sam's throat tightened and he cleared it, "it's been about waiting to hear from you, wondering if you were okay - wondering what I did to you..."

"What you, did?" Dean looked up. Sometimes, over the years in different states of intoxication and broken, bleeding messes, Dean wondered if his memory of that last time with them was a little... messed up. Sometimes he wondered if he'd actually been the one to say no, if maybe his heart and mind was damaged enough he couldn't accept the truth. Now. Now Dean was left wondering it all over again and the only intoxication he had was Sam. Which, really, was enough.

"You didn't want, you wanted, school and-" Dean swallowed thickly and looked down, to the side out the window, to the other side where he could see Chris glancing up, watching, probably waiting for the fall out. Dean was kind of waiting for it too. "We gotta go Sam. We can't do this here." It would likely sound more convincing if he could make himself step away. Hurt too much to though.

Sam was used to that response. It's why, in the end he finally had the guts to leave for school. _Not now, not here, later, it's not the right time._ "It's never the right time, Dean. Never was." Sam turned and headed over toward Chris. "Chris," he called out, "we're leaving in five let's start loading up."

Dean was a little surprised by the coursing wave of pain that suggested he was completely responsible for how he felt. Then he was a little surprised he was surprised and it was probably a pretty fucked up cycle of insanity in his mind. Dean closed his eyes, heard the vague whispers of a distant moan and saw the hard press of his brother against Chris, felt the ghost of lips against his own, hadn't felt it for eight years but it was just like then. And it was all heat, a blur in his mind and Dean opened his eyes to nothing. That was pretty usual too.

Sam was helping Chris with some sleeping bags so Dean grabbed an arm full of gear, his shot gun, shouldered the door open and set off across the parking lot.

It was one step, _Sam_ , another step, _please_. But he'd been doing this long enough now to know silent pleas got him nowhere. Fine. Just fine. He'd deal. He could do this, always did. Maybe he just needed to sleep. Dean glanced over his shoulder, caught Sam laughing softly at something Chris said. Maybe he just needed Sam. Well, there was no maybe about that.

The trunk clicked as he popped it open. Not much room anymore. He sighed and dropped the things on the ground, fingers digging through course hairs along his jaw. And then, because it was exactly what Dean _didn't_ need, footfalls in the distance. Dean spun, pulled his shot gun up and calculated. Twenty, maybe more. Probably some he couldn't see. "Sam," he called across the parking lot, eyes darting that way, gun lining up, preparing. They needed this stuff, would have to stop somewhere else if they didn't get it now. "Sam! Get the shit in the car!" He called and quick glanced their way, looked back, flinched. They were coming fast and Dean felt his heart drum a steady, familiar beat.

Sam heard the urgency in Dean's voice and didn't even bother to check and see what his brother was looking at. He picked up more than half the stuff that was left - hollered at Chris to grab the rest and set off running. By the time he reached the car he could see Dean's finger on the trigger. He would hold off until it was absolutely necessary. No point in wasting ammunition.

Skidding to a halt by the trunk Sam stuffed in what he could and slammed it shut. He almost collided with Chris as the man barely managed to avoid running into the car. Yanking the back door open Sam shoved everything he could inside. "Get in," he ordered and as soon as Chris stuffed himself in the backseat Sam shoved the rest of the gear in. "Few more seconds Dean, get in." Sam spared a glance at his brother as the first shot was fired. The sound reverberated through his body and Sam froze for a moment, swore, then stuffed the last sleeping bag in almost on top of Chris then slammed the door. "Dean!"

It was almost remarkable, the speed at which they could move. The first dropped and Dean's fingers curled around the fore stock, cocked it once more, inhaled sharp and smelt gun powder.

"Get in Sam," he called over his shoulder, slid along the trunk and backed up. Maybe for the thrill, maybe to give Sam the few seconds he needed to get in the car, Dean took down two more. Something clattered to the side of him and instinct had Dean turning automatically, gun extending, finger pulling the trigger before he could really put two and two together.

Almost thirty years old and Dean had yet to reach the moment in his life when he realized his issues were deeper than he was willing to address. Or, perhaps he had reached it but hadn't really accepted it. So it was odd, how this would be the moment his entire _soul_ would make the connection. A fine wisp of smoke floated up from his barrel and Dean thought, maybe, the world had frozen for a moment. Because the little girl who was still wavering in spot didn't seem close to dropping.

Her face was pale purple blue, eyes bloodshot and wide, blood along her chin. Dean would peg her for eleven, twelve maybe. She had a bright pink sundress on and no shoes, grimy blond hair falling out of braided pigtails. Dean stared at the bullet hole in her forehead and only distantly registered Sam's call of his name because it was Sam and his voice was something he never stopped longing for. Dean felt his chest expand with an inhale, eyes burning from the way he couldn't blink, mouth dry, bile in his throat. _Fuck_.

"Jesus Christ," Sam shoved out of the car and flung the door closed behind him, jumped and slid across the hood of the car. "Dean, get in the fucking car." Sam's hands connected hard with Dean's chest and he shoved his brother back into the care with all his strength.

Just as Dean finally seemed to snap out of whatever had him frozen Sam felt fingers snatching at his hair, a grip on his shirt. Dean twisted the ignition key and as the Impala roared to life Sam wrenched himself free and slid into the car shifting the car into gear immediately and stamping on the accelerator.

The car spun on the spot for a few seconds and Sam grasped at the door handle trying to drag it closed. Finally, the car picked up speed and the hands withdrew and the door slammed shut. Sam heaved in a few breaths. "Dean, my neck, check my neck," his eyes were wide, fear slinking up his spine. Steering with one hand Sam leaned to the side so Dean could check his skin.

The suggestion that Sam could be hurt knocked Dean the rest of the way out of his stupor and he slid across the seat, pressed into his brother's side. His hands slid up to Sam's skin, running across the flesh. Nothing. Dean blew out a shaky breath but kept his hands on his brother, sliding down his neck, across his chest, over his arms. "It's okay. You're okay. You're okay." He nearly panted the words, eyes wide as he continued to touch every inch of his brother, hands up to his hair, across his jaw, dropping down over his thigh. "Fuck Sammy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're okay." Dean's heart was slamming hard in his chest, painful, and he pressed flush into Sam as much as possible in the confined space.

"Dean," Sam tried to slow his own breathing a little and settled back against the seat. "Jesus." His fingers slid over his brother's hand where it was gripping tight on Sam's thigh. "What happened? You were just. You just froze." Sam swallowed, curling his fingers into Dean's palm.

Closing his eyes Dean could still see the little girl, her body crumpling down to the ground. He heard a sharp inhale from the backseat but ignored it. Ignored Chris. Focused on Sam. "She was just a little girl. Damnit, there were fucking _bows_ in her hair." He clenched his eyes closed tight, forced them open when the image of the child remained. Dean stared at Sam's neck, at the faint tick of his pulse just barely visible beneath his skin, leaned forward and pressed his lips there just for the reassurance. "Sorry." Sam had saved him, risked his life doing it. Dean should probably sleep.

Just that slight touch of Dean's lips and Sam shivered. Looping his arm over Dean's shoulder he pulled his brother in against his chest. "God Dean, you need to sleep. Please." His fingers slid up through Dean's hair and he pressed his brother’s head closer. Dean didn't make these kinds of mistakes, certainly not mistakes that put anyone else's life at risk. "Please," he murmured.

"Wake me if you have to stop," Dean whispered and tucked into Sam's side, curling against him like he wasn't six foot and well built, like he was just a little kid and their roles were reversed. The exhaustion hit him, hard in the gut, and Dean momentarily felt dizzy. He waited for a beat, held on just a few moments longer to make sure Sam wasn't going to make him move, then wrapped his arm across his brother's middle and let go.

-=-=-=-

"So," Chris leaned against the seat, eyes traveling the length of Dean's body stretched across the seat, lingering on the head in Sam's lap. He'd moved, curled into the position in the few hours that had passed since the warehouse store but mostly he seemed a bit dead to the world. "That was fucking crazy." Chris said quietly like the attack had happened a few minutes ago and not hours before.

Sam started; he'd thought Chris was sleeping too - figured they were both too overwhelmed to say much. It seemed he was wrong. "Yeah, crazy," Sam's eyes moved down quickly to his hand still curled over Dean's shoulder and he pulled it away to curl his fingers over the steering wheel. "You okay?"

"Shit man," Chris laughed but it sounded hollow. "I haven't been okay for awhile." He sighed and looked out the windshield quietly for a few miles. "You okay?"

"I'm pretty sure I haven't been okay for the better part of a decade." Sam spoke softly, he was pretty sure that Dean was out cold but still, he needed him to be okay - needed him to be better. Shifting slightly on the seat he stretched out the leg Dean wasn't resting on. "I'm sorry. About before. Dean's - well, he's exhausted. He'll be better after he sleeps."

"What exactly are you apologizing for?" Chris asked softly and curled his fingers over the seat. "The way he acted? Or the way he was when you started driving?"

"Which part needs the apology more?" Sam smiled and turned his head slightly so Chris could see it. It wasn't much of a smile but then Sam didn't like questions he didn't have an answer for. The way Dean had acted, the way his hands moved so desperately over Sam - almost like his life depended on Sam being okay - Sam hadn't been prepared for that. And yet, somehow, deep inside he knew that he would do the same thing if confronted with the idea that Dean might be hurt, might be taken away from him again.

"Not really sure any of it needs an apology," Chris murmured and rested his cheek on the seat, staring at Sam. "You really love him, I can see it. But you two... it's, beyond complicated huh? Think it'll ever be better? Now that you have some kind of chance?"

"A chance?" Sam huffed and gave up trying to pretend he didn't want his hand on Dean. Letting his hand fall over Dean’s shoulder, he curled his fingers tight into his denim jacket. "We never had much of a chance. Besides, things aren't really all that different now."

"Bullshit they are." Chris huffed and lifted his head, shaking it slowly. "Man, this is it. Look at this place, there's no one around, never will be anymore. Seems like the only chance you're gonna get, if you really want it. You know how I am, you want something, you get it, take it. He wants you too, it's written all over his face. So whatever the issue is, you just have to, you gotta make it better. Because this is _it_."

"There are some things you can't go back from." Sam sighed. Eight years ago Sam had said _no_ , in more ways than one and everything had started to unravel from that point forward. "You. You don't understand - I haven't told you everything. It was me, I said _no_. I mean - I used the word no - when he was, when we were-" Sam sighed again and looked out the side window for a few moments. "When I left for college he said I was running away from him, from us. I said I wasn't. I lied."

Chris sat in silence for a few long minutes, listening to the sound of the tires along the pavement. "Why?" He finally asked, leaning forward once more. "I mean, okay I get some of the logical reasons why, the... brothers thing, which is pretty damn... well. And the hunting thing, it wasn't the life you wanted. Was it, more?"

Sam's lip trembled slightly as he tried to blink away the tears that were threatening. "Chris, that kind of... the way he made me feel. It's not right, it was like this burn inside me that I couldn't put out and I knew. Even then I knew if something - or if someone took him away from me then I dunno." But Sam did know, his heart would just stop beating. "So, I did what I thought was right. I took myself away from him." Biting down hard on his bottom lip for a few moments Sam stared straight ahead, fingers moving gently on Dean's shoulder.

"The thing was," Sam continued. "I didn't realize what it would do to him. And, the longer it went on - the worse it was and how do make up for that shit? How do you say sorry?" Gritting his teeth against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, Sam sighed and shook his head. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm all over the place. It's just adrenaline and exhaustion."

"It's okay." Chris' hand came to rest on the back of Sam's skull, pressing gently. "Sam, that feeling, I don't know, that's part of loving someone right? You always take that risk, and yeah, okay Dean's chances of something happening to him were a bit more extreme but-" Chris blew out a low breath and sat back. "Fuck man, I don't know. I guess you just, you gotta tell him. How you feel and why you said no. Maybe he'll get it?"

"Chris, I'm with you." Sam shifted again on the seat. He wasn't with Chris the way he'd always been with Dean - but Chris was, well, Chris. He was different, safe. Chris wasn't going to go off somewhere and get drunk or pick up some woman. He wouldn't get killed by a demon, wouldn't even be the kind of guy who felt so much he would slash up his own arms to make it stop. Yeah. Sam knew what those jagged marks were on Dean's arms. Dean Winchester didn't know what to do with his emotions, never had, that's why he was just slowly killing himself. "God, I hate this."

Dean pushed up from Sam's lap, hating that this was the emotion he was facing the moment he woke. Why though he didn't know, he woke up feeling miserable almost all the time. He could hear Chris' inhale, maybe Sam's too, but he looked out the opposite window. "We should take a side road. Find a lake. I need to clean up." Dean couldn't even spare the energy to care that his voice was as close to flat as possible. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, or what the beginning of that conversation was, and he didn't want to. Dean's fate was sealed.

"Dean?" Sam's lips twitched into a nervous smile. "You only heard the end of the conversation."

"It was the point though, right?" Dean rolled his shoulders, shifted against the door. He wished he'd stayed asleep. "Try up there." Dean pointed to a turn off coming up along the road, arm wrapping around his chest, fingers curling into his arm.

"Fuck, whatever. You always think what you want anyway." Sam turned off onto the side road and rolled up his window against the dust. His whole life he felt like he'd had to fight to be heard because he was the one who felt things, the thinker their Dad had always said. And, Sam was tired. "Can someone else drive for a while?"

Yanking the steering wheel to the side Sam turned the engine off and climbed out of the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam felt like he was going to be sick. He glanced around, nothing, not another soul for miles. Striding around to the other side of the car Sam yanked the back door open and started shoving stuff over into the front seat. "I wanna sit in the back," he growled low in his throat. "We just threw all this stupid shit in here," leaning back to try and stuff a sleeping bag over the front Sam smacked his head hard against the top of the door frame.

"Fuck," he spat. Whatever hold he had on his temper vanished and Sam punched at the sleeping bag then pulled back out of the car to kick at the tire as hard as he could. He wanted his life back, the one where he knew what was going to happen every day. He wanted back the driving to work and the coming home to a message from Chris, not needing anything from Dean and not hating him for being the one who got to fall to pieces.

"Fucking hate this," he growled out and slammed the door shut to walk off down the road.

Dean stood to the side of the car, watching Sam move. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Chris take a half stepped forward and sighed. "I think, it's probably better if I go." He said quietly and reached back in the car, pulling out the shot gun, stuffing his hand in his pocket to retrieve the bullets. "Shouldn't need it, but just in case."

"Hey," Chris called, causing Dean's steps to falter. "Just, try not to kill each other or something."

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the man and raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You really don't know me at all." He huffed and shook his head, setting off at a half jog to chase down his brother.

"Sam," Dean called out; hands across his chest, dropping when it seemed too much like a barrier. Ten steps apart, might as well be another world. "Come on Sam, you can't just walk away." Only he could. Did. Dean didn't want to watch it again.

"I need a break." Sam's voice wavered. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he wasn't going to stop and let Dean see it. See what all this did to him. It was tearing him apart inside and he just couldn't do it anymore. He'd never been like Dean, never been able to stuff everything down and fight it off.

"Yeah well, so do I but that can't really happen right now you know?" Dean itched to reach out for him, itched for some hope. Never was much anyway.

"Look, I. God I fucking know this sucks and I'm sorry. The minute we get to the cabin I'll get out of your hair, give you and Chris space. We just, we gotta get somewhere safe." Dean's entire being ached, but that was as familiar as breathing.

The problem was that Sam couldn't catch his breath. He was heaving in oxygen and it just wasn't working. Stumbling slightly he spun around. "That's. That's what I get. You fucking checking out again? Thank you. Thank you _very_ much, Dean." Panting Sam bent over and pressed his hands hard into his thighs. "I can't," he gasped in a few breaths and looked up, "breathe." Something was squeezing his heart so tight he was sure it was only barely able to still beat. "Dean."

"Sam," Dean closed the space between them, wrapped his arms tight around Sam and heaved him up so he was standing. "Jesus Sam, come on, inhale." He rubbed his hand firm into his brother's back, nerves and panic swelling up in him. "I'm not going anywhere. I just meant different rooms. Space to walk around, not trapped in the car. I'm not leaving. Come on Sam." Years of being Sam's brother, before the fall out, had him doing whatever he could to try and snap Sam out of it, get him to inhale and exhale, fucking _breathe_.

"No," He panted in a few breaths, all of it hitching painfully in his chest, "y..you didn't mean that." Clinging to Dean's neck, Sam tried to take deep breaths. "I know what you meant." Coughing, Sam turned his face into Dean's neck. "Please don't go. We never get a chance to fix anything." Groaning in frustration Sam sniffed and took in a few shuddering breaths. "Just promise. Not until things are okay." He pulled back enough to see Dean's face. He could always tell when Dean lied to him. Ever since he was a little kid.

Being called on a lie happened so rarely for Dean he was momentarily surprised. His mind flashed to memories of childhood, all the times he'd tried to convince Sam of something - that their dad would be home for Christmas this time, that the world wasn't full of wicked shit that would hurt them - Sam had always seen through it. "Okay," he whispered, wrapping his arms more secure around his brother and holding tight. "Okay, I won't go. We'll fix it, we'll fix things. I won't." He exhaled shakily, stroked a hand up through Sam's hair, closed his eyes despite the never ending persistence to scan the horizon for danger.

Blowing out a shuddering breath, Sam's shoulder slumped a little. "Okay." Dean didn't break his promises. "Okay." Sam wiped his face on his sleeve and closed his eyes for a few moments. "God, I'm so tired," he whispered. Everything in him ached and he just wanted to turn back the clock to when they were kids and long summer days had them laying in bed till late morning curled around each other. "So tired."

"I know," Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair; it was soft and warm, heated by the sun. He pulled back; just to check Sam's expression, make sure he was okay. Dean watched Sam's tongue slide across his lips, Dean swayed forward. _No_. Dean looked away, pursed his lips. "We're almost there, few hours, maybe a little more. Just a little more time, okay?" Dean's hand drifted down from Sam's hair, cupping around his neck, squeezing softly. "We can do this Sam. We can."

Sam nodded then leaned in to kiss the corner of Dean's mouth. "Okay," he smiled shakily. Dropping his gaze he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, could still feel the touch of Dean's lips there.

A harsh breath shook Dean's chest and he pulled Sam in, resisted in the last moment and brought their foreheads together. So close, it would be so easy, to brush their lips together, to give in to what he'd wanted for so very long. "Fuck," he whispered and forced a laugh to cover the emotion laced in the word. "I need a shower. And to sleep for days. Weeks maybe. And I could go for a really big burger."

Laughing weakly, Sam closed his eyes for a few moments. "The lake," he murmured. "Can't do much about the burger." Withdrawing, Sam stretched his back slightly and opened his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, "It's all been a little much." Wiping at his face with both hands Sam groaned.

If Dean were different, he'd ask what Sam was apologizing for. He didn't want to know it might be for the almost kiss, the brush along the side of his lips, so he didn't ask. "I know. It has been." Dean took a step back, shoved his hands into his pockets. "You ready to go now or you need a minute longer?" Dean glanced over his shoulder at Chris, lips twitching a smile when the man quickly looked away.

"I'm okay," Sam started a slow walk back to the car, "could use some time in that lake myself. If we can find one." He smiled and bumped his shoulder into Dean's. Just like when they were kids - and all he wanted to do was follow his brother around, stay near him.

"Yeah, you could." Dean snorted, glanced over at Sam and bumped his shoulder against Sam's in return.

-=-=-=-

"Thank fucking Christ," Chris said on an exhale, pushing out of the car and heading directly for the lake, already pulling at his shirt.

Dean smirked for a moment, sliding out of the car as well. The idea of even a few moments in the lake sounded appealing to him. He brought a few shotguns over to the shore with him, setting them on a large rock and looking around. The area was covered in trees, pretty secure, as long as they kept it down it should be okay. And no, Dean wasn't giving much thought to how awkward it could get, skinny dipping with the brother he was in love with and his... lover. Right.

Kicking off his shoes, Dean stepped back onto the grass and tugged at his socks. He kept his eyes on the ground as he pulled his shirt off, draping it over his shoes and reaching down for his waistline. Some part of him wondered if Sam would take a moment to pick out all the differences, and it was already too late when he remembered there were some things he didn't want Sam to see yet. A soft sigh left his lips as he pushed his pants down, heading for the water.

Sam had torn his clothes off quickly and was only moments behind Chris when he ran out into the shallow water and dove in. It was freezing and pretty much nothing had ever felt better. He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted a shower until he was swimming through the cool water. Breaking the surface he sucked in a breath and glanced over toward Chris; he was swimming full tilt out into the middle of the lake. Smiling Sam tread water for a few moments watching then turned to swim over to Dean. He missed swimming, long strokes, his arms slicing through the water. Sam had always been the one who wanted to go swimming when they were kids.

Closing the distance between them quickly Sam dove under the water to surface right in front of Dean. Shaking his head he laughed as the water from his hair sprayed all over Dean's face.

Dean laughed, more in response to Sam's, and splashed at him. "So mature Sam," he grinned and hooked his hands on Sam's shoulder, pushing him down under the water, letting himself fall under as well. It was cool, refreshing, shot through his system better than anything else. Sam's skin slid along his palm, warm against the cool and Dean felt the edge of a nipple before he withdrew and pushed up to the surface. He inhaled deeply and dragged his hand across his face, smiling at Sam as he shook more water from his hair.

Grinning Sam wiped the water off his face. His eyes dragged down past Dean's smile to the newer scars on his shoulders, a black protection tattoo - even Sam had considered getting one of those - then changed his mind when he realized he'd have to explain it to everyone. There was another tattoo further down, over Dean's heart and when Sam's eyes focused on it his smile faded. His fingers lifted to Dean's skin, tracing the letters there, _S_ , _A_ , _M_.

Pressing his palm flat over the tattoo Sam looked up at his brother. "Was that to protect you from something too?" Blinking in the sunlight, Sam tilted his head slightly so he could see Dean's eyes.

"No," Dean whispered, looking down at the hand on his chest, following the arm back up to his brother's eyes. "Just, keeping you close to my heart." He pressed his lips together and looked across the lake at Chris who seemed pretty content to just keep ducking in and out of the water. "Felt like, you were there." Dean murmured and dipped his gaze, peering up at his brother from under his lashes.

Sam shifted closer, head still tilted slightly to the side. His lips twitched into a slight smile. "I like it," he murmured. Sliding his hand up to Dean's shoulder he let himself be pushed closer by the movement of the water until he was pressed up against the heat of Dean's body. He knew he shouldn't. He knew it. But just like all those years ago, he was drawn to Dean somehow. "How'd we get so messed up?" His cheek slid against his brother's, stubble rasping quietly over the lapping of the water.

Dean's hand found its way to his hip, along his side; he swallowed to restrain the hint of the need to push away. This was where he wanted to be, the suggestion of what he once could have had. "I wish I knew," he whispered, curling his toes into rocks and sand beneath his feet, just barely there before he let himself float, stopped stretching for something stable. It made his body bump against Sam's and he turned his lips in, brushed the edge of Sam's ear. "We keep ending up like this. I can't resist you any more now than I could before." Dean closed his eyes and listened to Sam breathe.

"You never used to try," Sam whispered. His fingers slid up Dean's chest to curl round his neck and he closed the distance between them; pressed the length of his body up against Dean's side. _God_ , just like when they were teenagers, Dean was like this wall of strength that Sam just kept smashing himself into. He couldn't help it. Rubbing his cheek slowly against Dean's, Sam let out a small puff of air against his brother's ear. Even in the cool water he could feel the heat of Dean's skin, the muscles just below it, the way they rippled as he held himself afloat in the water.

No one had ever been able to make Dean feel the way Sam did. His heart quickened, sparked to life, his blood picked up speed and his hand moved around his waist, pressing low on his back.

"Why did you say no Sam?" Dean whispered, body slowly molding against Sam's. His eyes flickered open for a moment. He caught Chris watching, guilt nudged up in him, struggling to find room along with everything else. Dean closed his eyes because, and he didn't have problems admitting it, he was too selfish to let the other man take this moment from him. "Why wasn't I enough?" It was barely spoken, just the faintest exhale and Dean held his breath for an answer.

Sam's lips moved against his brother's ear. "You were too much. I was terrified that I could want you so much." Sam let his lips brush against the shell of Dean's ear. "I couldn't say yes because I couldn't have made it if you left me." The breath that escaped his mouth was like a release. Eight years of not saying it, thinking he'd made the right choice and somehow hating every single moment of it. "I always thought you'd come and find me." Sam's voice was only just above a whisper, softer than the heartbeat that was thudding away in his ears.

Dean took a moment, processed the words and breathed. It was never what he had guessed, he'd never thought it could be Sam wanting him too much, scared. Like Dean was scared, always. "I did," he murmured the word, soft against Sam's skin. Pulling back to meet his brother's eyes, Dean pressed his palm flat against his jaw and sighed. "I always knew where you were. How do you think I found you so fast now? I wanted to see you, constantly. But I. I, I thought you'd say no. Again, if I showed up I thought you'd turn me away and I didn't think I could take that. Not again." _Chicken shit_. He'd said it before and knew it was true.

"I wish-" Sam looked over at Chris and pulled away slightly. "I wish you'd come. I really do." Turning quickly he dove into the water and broke the surface a few feet away breaking into a full out stroke across the surface. Sometimes, it didn't hurt to _try_ and outrun things even if he already knew he carried them inside him.

All at once the little spark of hope, that flutter of his heart, that suggestion that _maybe_ he could feel happy, faded away. Just like that, a door closing and Dean watched Sam hook his arm around Chris' shoulder and drag him under the water. _What the fuck_? Dean sucked in a breath, clenched his eyes closed because god _damnit_ he shouldn't be this close to tears because of this. He thought he was over that, over the first initial tidal waves of pain. Dean swam to the edge of the lake and climbed out, grabbing his clothes. He'd sit on the trunk and keep guard, maybe Sam could find whatever Dean couldn't give him with Chris. At least Sam would be happy, Dean could live with that. He thought.

-=-=-=-

"What was that?" Chris said as his laughter died down. "The... thing," his head jerked toward Dean pulling his clothes on before his gaze tilted to Sam, eyes crinkling with worry.

"Telling him why I left." Sam floated up onto his back, fingers curling over Chris' hand so he didn't float too far away. Sam was all kinds of messed up inside; didn't know, for the life of him, which way to go anymore.

"Didn’t take it well?" Chris shifted to float on his back as well, fingers lacing with Sam's.

"Dunno." Once upon a time, Sam could have read every shift of expression on Dean's face. Now, he wasn't sure. "He knew where I was all this time." For eight years. Sam wondered if any of those black cars he had thought looked familiar over the years had looked that way for a reason.

"Yeah..." Chris sighed. "What would you have done? I mean, if he did come?"

Sam closed his eyes against the sun that was beating down on them, warming his face. "Anything he wanted me to." _That_ answer, Sam knew. For months after he left for school his heart would race at every phone call, every knock on his door - thinking _that_ would be the time that Dean came for him. It wasn't until there was someone consistent on the other side of the door, Chris, that feeling finally went away.

"But it's different now? You won't do that anymore?" Chris squeezed Sam's hand softly, tighter a moment later.

"I told you before. I'm with you. And he's. He's not the same. He's so hurt, so broken inside." Sam blinked his eyes open and righted himself so he could glance over at the shore. Dean was already back up at the car doing what he always did, keeping watch. "You're here because of me. I'm not- Well, that's the way things are."

"But you're not really with me Sam," Chris straightened up and smiled sadly. "Come on, you're not fooling me. I may not know everything about you but, some things I know. I can tell right now you're torn, the way you two just were... if I wasn't here, that would have been something. You _love_ him, more than you ever will me." Chris pressed his hand to Sam's chest, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. "It's okay you know, I care for you, maybe even love you in some ways, but I've known from the beginning that we were never- it was never all the way with us."

Laughing softly, Sam pressed another kiss to Chris' lips. "I'm with maybe the only two men left on the planet and you're both trying to get away from me." His tone was light but his smile was forced.

"I'm not trying to get away from you," Chris frowned, shaking his head. "I'm just, I don't want to be some weird... God Sam. I'd give anything to just kiss you right now, fool around in the water, sounds like a fucking good time to me and there hasn't been a lot of that lately. But how can I do that when I know after you'll feel like shit because your brother is sitting just over there like someone just fucking shot his favorite pet. It's a bit much you know?"

"I'm sorry." Sam felt like he'd made a thousand apologies since this all started and he wasn't sure it was getting him anywhere. "He knows, that I'm with you. It might not be what he wants. But - he won't do anything." Sam's eyes locked with Chris' for a few intense moments. "I told him. I'm with you." Sam no longer had any idea who he was trying to convince.

"Okay," Chris nodded slowly, hand sliding around Sam's neck, cupping gently. "If you want me then, I'm definitely not saying no. I, being here with you. It makes me feel safe. Makes everything else easier. So." Chris shrugged and smiled pulling Sam into him.

-=-=-=-

It was quiet on the road when they were finally underway again. Sam had insisted on cleaning up the mess he'd made of things and had climbed back into the front seat after making a soft pile of sleeping bags for Chris to lie back on.

The windows were open, the warm air rushing through the car and drying their hair. It was almost possible for Sam to believe they were simply out on some road trip instead of running for their lives. Chris was right when he'd called the whole situation _crazy_. It was.

Glancing over at Dean, Sam smiled and twisted in his seat to stare at his brother. "You been hunting for all the time you were away. We were apart. Whatever." He smiled when Dean glanced over at him, hoping that Dean could see it was nervousness that made him choose his words poorly.

"For the most part," Dean nodded, fingers slowly curling and uncurling against the steering wheel. He'd stopped trying to pinpoint the different emotions in him, reaching a conclusion of sorts. Sam had said his peace, cleared his conscious, gone back to Chris. If that's what Sam wanted, then Dean would let him have it, and he'd try to be the brother he was supposed to be. "Worked in a traveling carnival for awhile, you would have laughed, had a red striped shirt and everything." Dean tried to add some humor notes to the words, still sounded flat but gave himself credit for trying.

"You been with anyone?" Sam's eyes narrowed slightly at the thought but he pushed his unearned jealously aside.

"Like, a relationship?" Dean glanced over to him for just a moment then shifted his gaze back to the mountain roads. He needed to keep an eye out for anything stopping them anyway, and it had nothing to do with how much it hurt to look at Sam. "No. Had some flings, but then, I'm sure you already knew that." Dean was pretty sure Sam had some already formed opinions about the way he'd changed, it stung to acknowledge how accurate they probably were.

Sam watched as Dean's eyes scanned the countryside around them. _Looking anywhere but at Sam._ "Men?" Sam leaned back against the door and stared over at his brother, watching as Dean's fingers tightened on the leather cover of the steering wheel. He wanted to know what Dean had done while they were apart, how he'd managed to stay away so long.

"Yes." No point in lying about it, wasn't like Sam had any right to protest or anything. After all, there was Chris asleep in the backseat and well, that was that. "Both. Men more, maybe. Don't know, never bothered to keep count." Dean could flash through memories, a stream of bodies, never enough. Never what he wanted.

"Was it ever the same?" Sam licked his bottom lip. He had no right to ask. "The same as with us?" Sam remembered the feeling. If he closed his eyes he could feel it today just like he felt it all those years ago. The tingle of heat and burst of desire when Dean's lips had pressed against his.

"Never." Dean sighed, tightened his fingers on the wheel. Salt in the wound or something, what was this game Sam was playing? "Is it, with him?" Dean's head tilted back just slightly to Chris in the back seat.

Turning, Sam gazed down at Chris' slack features. He was sleeping the sleep of the innocent. Sam remembered that phrase somewhere. The only one in the car who was really being true to himself. "No," Sam said. "It's nothing like that." It was the first time he'd said it out-loud even though he'd known it from the first moment. It wasn't like it was some kind of torture being with Chris. Sam _did_ care about him, care for him. But the spark was different, the heat never quite as hot, the desire never quite as strong.

Dean nodded, tried not to feel relieved about that, didn't matter much anyway. "Nothing ever is." Dean said quietly and rubbed his fingers along his arm. "Not, drinking. Drugs. Sex. Tattoos, piercing, hurting-" Dean cut himself off and sighed, glancing over at Sam. "Never will be, I suppose."

"So, you done with all that?" Sam leaned forward and ran his fingers over the scars on the inside of Dean's wrist. "I don't understand why you'd do that." It hurt Sam; he could almost feel the way the blade would have scraped across the skin.

"Bad trip," Dean huffed and didn't bother trying to hide the scars, no use. "But, yeah. I'm done with it. Have been for awhile, you learn your lesson after awhile." He laughed humorlessly and wet his lips. It wasn't fair the way Sam's fingers on his skin could send sparks up his system.

"What now then? Will you keep trying to find something... else?" Sam let his fingers slip off Dean's arm. What he wanted to do was slide across the seat and slip his head under Dean's arm, pull his legs up on the seat and sleep. Just like he used to do when they were alone in the car.

"No." Shaking his head, Dean slowly dropped his hand down to his thigh. "There's not anything else for me. Just you. So, this is where I'll be." He clenched his jaw, looked out the side window. Dean and Sam, and Chris. Ah, the dysfunctional lives of the Winchesters.

Sighing, Sam stared out the window for a few moments then turned and flopped down on the seat, shifting and shoving Dean's hand out of the way so he could rest his head on his brother's thigh. "M'tired," he muttered. That feeling washed over him right away, the feeling of being safe, loved, _right_ where he was supposed to be. Because he knew that Dean wouldn't do it, Sam grabbed his brother's hand and shoved it up so that Dean's fingers combed through Sam's hair. A tingling sensation ran down from Sam's scalp, along his neck, down his spine and he closed his eyes. So many times he'd fallen asleep with those fingers moving through his hair.

"I'm always going to be your brother Sam," Dean whispered, eyes closing for just a second as his fingers slid through Sam's hair. It would hurt, to have Sam be with Chris, it would hurt more to not have Sam at all. So he'd take this for what it was.

-=-=-=-

Dean's eyes swept across the open clearing surrounding the cabin, sitting in the silence that reigned when the engine cut off. There wasn't anything but the gentle blow of wind through the trees, and beneath that the small puff of air leaving Sam's lips. Dean wanted to absorb this moment, take it all in and pretend it was just them, for right now, for always.

"This the place?" Chris asked quietly from the backseat.

Dean wondered how long he'd been awake. He'd driven the last three hours in silence, with Sam's head on his lap, Sam's hair between his fingers. Now it was this. "This is it." He said quietly, not wanting to wake Sam but knowing they'd need to. "We've got a lot of work to do before the sun sets," he glanced over his shoulder at Chris, considering him.

"Think he'll stay asleep if you move?" Chris was still leaning back in the seat but he'd obviously put two and two together.

"Probably not," Dean shook his head and stroked his hand through Sam's hair once more. "Sam," he whispered, thumb dragging along the shell of his ear. "We're here Sam, wake up."

Taking a deep breath Sam blinked his eyes open and rolled over slightly, staring up at Dean. "We there?" His back was aching from lying there but it was worth it - he'd slept dreamlessly, only almost waking once to feel the soothing weight of Dean's hand on the side of his head.

"Yeah, we are," Dean smiled softly down at him, finger sliding across Sam's lower lip. The back door opened and Dean pulled his hand back. "We should probably try and get perimeter set up before it gets dark. Some type of security." _Sammy_ , his heart clenched, eyes fixed down on his brother.

Grabbing the seat back Sam hauled himself up and grinned sleepily at Chris. "Mornin'," he muttered then rubbed his hand over his face. "Alright." It took Sam a while to get out of the car then a while longer to stop stretching and walking around trying to work the kinks out of his body.

Pushing out of the car, Dean tuned out the pleasantries exchanged between the two men, crossing around to the trunk and pulling it open. "Sam, you wanna get started taking things inside? Bring a shot gun with you, just in case." Dean was comfortable giving orders; it was something he'd done enough times to wear it like a comfortable second skin. "Chris, why don't you help me walk around the property, set up some things."

Nodding, Sam pulled the back car door open and started hauling stuff out. "You guys always make me do the heavy work." Grinning he pushed his hair back off his forehead and started carrying stuff over to the front door.

"It's just 'cause we like to see you all hot and sweaty Sam," Chris teased then bit his lip, flinching as his words obviously caught up with him.

Dean snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "Good to see I'm not the only one who's good at putting their foot in their mouth." Dean glanced back toward his brother, swallowing when he acknowledged Chris' words as truth. "Hey Sam, there's a back closet with a series of alarms and stuff. Not sure if it'll be working but could you check it out while you're in there? It's supposed to be good without power but uh, you know me. I'm shit with that stuff." Dean was already hauling supplies out of the trunk, handing things to Chris.

"Yup, on it." Sam shouldered his way through the door and glanced back at Dean and Chris for a few moments then disappeared inside.

"So, secret property in the middle of the woods, because you needed more mystery?" Chris asked, arms full of supplies.

Dean tugged a roll of fencing from the back of the trunk and smiled. He’d kind of gotten over hating Chris. No, he didn't like him, not really at all, but he was going to be living in the same place with him and he was one of the few people alive anymore. So, Dean had to move on. Get over it. Whatever. "It belonged to a hunter I knew. I did him a few favors, helped him out of a few situations. Couple years later he passed on and left me this place."

They started off into the woods, Dean's eyes trailing along the ground, looking for series of wires that would trigger alarms within the house. "He made this place for an occasion just like this. Maybe not zombies but well, any port in a storm I guess. There's these, wires. A trigger of alarms, makes a whole parameter around the cabin. About sixty yards out. If any zombies find us, come running this way, they'll set the alarms off inside the cabin and we'll have enough time to get situated." Dean glanced over at him and smiled at the look of surprise on his face. "Did you see the gate on the front drive? Electric. There's no getting passed that.

"And what's the fencing for?" Chris gestured to the item in Dean's hand.

He thought maybe the man seemed surprised, like perhaps he hadn't expected Dean to be friendly with him. Like maybe he thought Dean was taking him out to the woods to shoot him. _Hah._ He wished. But not really. Chris was an alright guy, Sam cared for him. "About ten feet from the alarm wires there's a fence. It won't stop them, but it'll slow them down. This will make the fence higher, will slow them even more. With any luck they won't even make it through."

Chris smiled grimly, swallowed and shook his head. "You think it's always going to be this way?"

Sympathy, that was the only thing Dean felt for Chris at the moment and he sighed. "I don't know. Maybe not? There's about 310 million people in America. America's connected to Canada and Mexico, it's going to spread across the whole Continent. If they can swim, won't be hard to get to South America. Figure though, other countries have probably already quarantined us. And then-" he cut off, looked down Chris and sighed. The man looked terrified. "Sorry. That's uh, habit. I see things on a bigger scale, it's easier."

"This is, it's really the end of the world then?" Chris' steps faltered for a moment and he shook his head, long hair falling in his face. "Why do we even bother then? Why don't we let them get us?"

"Sam." Dean answered, simple and easy. Chris' gaze met his own and Dean tried to determine if this answer was true for Chris as well. He knew he could be intimidating and he didn't try back it off. Chris should be a little scared of him; Dean would send him out for the zombies if he hurt his brother. When Chris finally looked away, caved until the steel green of Dean's gaze, Dean turned and continued his walk.

"Listen, Dean-"

"Hey, you don't have too." Dean shook his head and scanned the forest. "I feel for you Chris. I don't like you, not really, but you know, it's not your fault. You got dragged into all this shit and it ain't pretty. When a Winchester's involved it rarely is. So, man, I'd love to lay the blame on you and everything but I know that's not it."

They walked in silence for a few yards, Dean allowed Chris to take it all in, process this new information and shift his judgment. He wondered what Chris thought of him, if he had all these ideas and images in mind from the things Sam had said. Probably. Dean hoped it wasn't all bad. "Is this your way of giving me your blessing?"

Swallowing around the pinch in his heart, Dean half laughed and glanced over at the man. "No. I don't think I'm ever going to really be able to give you that." Dean's lips twitched in a sad smile and he shifted the fencing in his grasp. Another step, on and on, same old thing and Dean was still broken.

"But. I think, Sam's going to chose you, if he hasn't already. And you know, it's not really a competition or anything. It's just. Sam. He's the mos-" Dean choked on the word, looked away to hide tears, wet his lips, continued, "Most important person in the world to me. And we've both made choices, mistakes, and I just think. You make him happy. He cares for you. I want to be part of his life but he wants you to be part. We can't both have him that way and..."

Dean looked over at Chris, laughing at his wide eyes. "Shit, this is making me sound crazy huh?"

"Fuck man, I am so used to crazy right now." Chris laughed too, shaking his head. "I think I get it though. You want to be everything to him but you don't think Sam wants that. So you're willing to be his brother as long as it means you're together. And that opens the space for me."

Dean didn't really like hearing it in those terms but yeah, it'd been the general point of this conversation. "Yeah, that's uh, basically it. So you know, this is the part when I say if you hurt him in any way I'll fucking slit your wrists, drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for zombie dinner."

Chris laughed again, Dean's lips thinned out and he stared. "Shit. You're fucking serious." Dean's brows lifted an inch. "Dude, anyone ever tell you you're one creepy son of a bitch?"

"Actually, yeah," Dean nodded and smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders. "Just gotta be said. For the record and all. I can get over what I can't have; I'm pretty damn used to it. I just want Sam to be happy and I know he won't ever be if you and I are at odds, if he can't find some peace in the place that's going to be home now."

"You really love him, huh?" Chris whispered and this time he most definitely sounded surprised. "Like... a lot. A whole lot."

"I'm in love with him," Dean admitted with a slight head dip. It kind of felt nice to talk to someone about it, to say the words and not feel shame. He didn't understand how or why Chris was just okay with this, why he wasn't slamming up against the whole _brothers_ roadblock up but he was suddenly grateful for it. "Sam is... my light. The only reason I never gave up. The thing keeping me going. He's the whole damn reason I breathe sometimes, always."

Another few yards of silence and Dean could just see the fence in the distance if he squinted. He turned his gaze down to the ground, keeping an eye out for the alarm wires. "Wow." Chris finally said and Dean smiled. Seemed like it took the guy awhile to process things. If they were on better terms he'd probably tease him about it. "Damn, that's just... and you're just willing to give him up? To let him be with me?"

"I'm not giving him up," Dean snapped, steps halting, eyes fixing on Chris. "It's not about admitting defeat here. It's one of those; you love someone enough you're willing to do whatever it is that'll make them happy. I won't lie to you Chris; it's really going to hurt. It's going to take all of my strength to watch you be with him, be the one that makes him _feel_ , but I'll do it. For Sam."

Chris met his gaze and frowned, slowly releasing his breath. "You know, him and I, we were never officially dating or anything. He never wanted that kind of commitment. Hell, I never wanted it either. I know that I'm not, I'm not you. And you? That's what he wants."

"I'm not so sure about that," Dean whispered, throat tight. He didn't like showing these types of feelings to someone, could hardly handle showing them to Sam, so he looked at the ground. "I think maybe I missed my time. Maybe I should have fought harder for him."

"Well, maybe this is your time again," Chris reasoned.

Dean looked up and fixed narrowed eyes on him. "Are you saying you don't want to be with him?" His tone was laced with disbelief. Like he'd just said _are you saying you don't want to eat again for the rest of your life?_ That was pretty close to what it felt like. Who wouldn't want to be with Sam?

"I do. I just," Chris swallowed and Dean could see the bob of his Adam's apple. He watched the man's head turn gaze sweeping through the forest. "Knowing how you feel, knowing how Sam feels, what you guys have, how can I just come in between that? It's like, worse than being a home wrecker. I really care for Sam, more than I have any other guy I've ever been with but I just don't know if I can be that way."

Dean frowned, torn just about down the middle. If he ever wanted a chance to be with Sam, to erase Chris from the picture, this would be it. A few choice words and Chris would back off, Dean could talk to Sam and make this _right_. But how could he make that choice? "Let's just... give it some time then. We all need a lot of sleep and a chance to calm down, process things. When the time is right, a decision will be made, somehow. Okay?"

"Yeah," Chris nodded and looked slightly relieved. Dean was feeling the same way, ready to be done with this conversation. "You think you could teach me how to do some shooting?" It was a clear and obvious subject change.

A small smile grew on Dean's face and he nodded. "Yeah. I think I can do that."

-=-=-=-

It took over an hour to get the extra fencing secure around the entire property. Dean walked the length of the wires to ensure everything was set there and, when he was certain the barriers were more secure, he tripped the alarm. He could hear it screeching from where he was and flinched, Sam was going to kill him for that. Both he and Chris ran back to the cabin but the alarm was off before they got there. Sam was out front, shot gun in hand, eyes slightly wide.

"Sorry," Dean grimaced and shook his head. "Sorry, Sam. God, I uh, should have warned you I was going to test that out. Guess we know it works though right?" Beside him Chris was laughing, Dean elbowed him hard in the side and smirked when he hissed.

"Oh you two are funny," Sam spat. His heart was pounding so hard the gun was pulsing up and down in time with his heart beat. "Jesus," he lowered the shot gun and took a deep breath. He frowned, realizing that Dean and Chris were actually _both_ amused.

"I told you he was going to kick your ass," Chris laughed, shaking his head and dragging a hand up through his hair.

"Ah, Sam couldn't kick my ass. He could try but well, I'd win. These are just the facts." Dean smiled, a little apologetically for Sam's sake and stepped forward. "Did you get everything brought in? Or you need some help still?"

"Everything's in although if I'd known what you guys were gonna do I would have left all the heaviest stuff outside for you two to bring in." Sam hid his smirk by turning away and shaking his head. "Dean, uh, there are only two bedrooms, two beds. Yeah." Peering across at Chris Sam shrugged.

"Oh." Dean had known that, but he kind of forgot. Until now of course. "Well. I uh, I could take the couch? Or we could, I mean, you two could, you could, uh." Dean's heart sank, of course, and he kept his eyes on the ground because looking at Sam would probably only sending Sam that look of _longing_. "Should I, go check the water pump? So you two can talk or? Jesus." Dean huffed a laugh, non-amused, and looked away.

"There's a water pump?" Sam looked up. Hell, it was better than discussing sleeping arrangements like thirteen year olds.

"Yeah," Dean nodded and gestured toward the back of the cabin. "Few yards that way. It's a pretty cool system. There's the pump and a water tank by it. Tim, the hunter who lived here before, he rigged it all up so you can pump the water and it'd run through for showers. We can light the furnace type thing, whatever, before each shower and dish cleaning. Little more work but it's better than the alternative."

"Oh." Sam shifted his weight, a little unsure of what to do. "I'm gonna-" he gesture at the cabin. "I'm gonna go and lay down. Back hurts." Walking backwards toward the door he bumped into the door frame and smiled, side-stepped and disappeared inside.

"Well." Chris frowned and rubbed at the back of his neck. "What do we do now?"

It was impossible for Dean to hate Sam, but he wasn't pleased at the moment for sure. It wasn't fair to leave them here without some idea of who was going to sleep where and what to do. Scrubbing his fingers into his eyes, Dean sighed softly and shrugged. "Go ahead and take the other bedroom. Maybe he just needs some space. I can make do on the couch."

"You sure?" Chris watched him for a moment before shrugging and heading for the cabin.

Dean was pretty sure he could handle the couch; he almost thought he deserved it. Only then he sat down on the couch and it was homemade and possibly the most uncomfortable thing Dean had ever considered sleeping on. At this point he'd have better luck sleeping in his car. He tried one way, the other, gave up and tried the chair. That wasn't much better. And _fuck_ Dean had slept four hours in the past five days, maybe six. This shit was fucked up and he wasn't going to tolerate it.

That, he told himself, was the only reason he entered Sam's room. It wasn't but he was _exhausted_ and didn't have time for self reflection at the moment. Sam was sprawled out on the mattress but there was enough room for another. Dean wondered if he'd been expecting someone, whether it was Chris or himself. For a moment Dean felt sympathy for his brother. They all had these roles to play; Sam's was stuck right in the middle.

The blanket was pooled around Sam's waist and Dean could see just the edge of his boxers even with the low moonlight breaking through the window. It had been long enough his brother probably wouldn't wake up when he climbed in bed. Because he wasn't sure if he'd get another chance for this moment, Dean pulled his shirt off and slipped out of his sweats. If this would be his one time, Dean wanted to feel the warmth of Sam along his skin.

Sliding under the blanket, Dean slowly shifted across the mattress, curled up behind Sam, tucking an arm around his middle. Dean inhaled and smelt only his brother, lips pressing into his shoulder. "Love you Sam," he whispered because he hadn't really had the chance to tell Sam yet. And even if his brother was asleep, it was nice to say it.

Sam wasn't sure what woke him, maybe the door opening, maybe the way even half-asleep he knew who was coming into the room. Maybe it was the way Dean pressed up against his back like he'd done it every night for the past eight years. Slipping his arm over Dean's he smiled. "Didn't like the couch?"

"Couch didn't like me," Dean muttered, pressed his lips into the back of Sam's neck. "S'okay that I'm here?" He whispered against his skin, nose pressing just once into his hair, breathing in the scent. Warm, familiar, home, _love_.

"S'good." Sam took a deep breath and sighed. "Might sleep well for once." His fingers threaded through his brother's and he pulled the man's hand up to his chest. Funny, eight years difference, bodies different, lives different and they still fit together like two puzzle pieces.

A sudden flare shot through Dean and he closed his eyes around it. He was hit with the urge to turn Sam to him, to crush their lips together, to strengthen the race of his heart. "Sam?" He whispered, wet his lips, pressed his forehead into Sam's hair.

"Hmm?" Sam shifted slightly, rolling in his brother's arms so he could curl his arm under Dean's. "You okay?" Sam nuzzled against Dean's neck, breathing in the scent that used to chase away his nightmares all those years ago.

Swallowing thickly, wetting his lips, Dean's heart skipped in his chest. "Yeah, I just," he tilted his head to the side, nudged against Sam's. "I want, Sam, can I..." Just the slightest shift and Dean's nose grazed along Sam's cheek, breath hitching in his throat. Another drag of his tongue across his lips and Dean dipped just barely forward, lips half on half off Sam's, eyes closing.

There was a tingling flare that exploded inside Sam sending waves of sensation outward from his chest. Turning slightly, _just enough_ , his lips parted and came together on Dean's in a soft kiss. _Just this once_. Dean's lips were still soft, fuller and thicker than Sam's, and Sam felt his brother's breath hitch.

It was impossible not to surge just slightly into the kiss. His lips pressed more firm, more sure against his brother's and he drank in the spark of _feeling_. Dean's fingers tangled up into Sam's hair, held him there, lips parting to slide against his brother's. It was just as he remembered, the way it made his mind spin, his heart race, Dean's tongue snaked forward because he had to taste every _inch_ of him. Just in case this was all he had. A moan left his lips and Dean swept his tongue across Sam's, remembering before, how it was, and now, how it could be.

Sam shifted again, pressing his body up against Dean's. Tilting his head slightly he let Dean take control of the kiss, slid his own tongue under his brother's to tease it forward into his mouth. _Just for a little while._ His hands rasped over Dean's skin, pads of his fingers learning the new scars on his side, his back, his hip. Pressing his palm flat against the small of his brother's back, Sam keened quietly almost afraid to break the peace of the moment.

Every inch of Dean _wanted_ Sam. Not just for now, not this once, always and forever. He wanted _this_. He wanted to roll his back onto the mattress, kiss every inch of him, worship him. _Please. Please._

Dean gasped into the kiss, completely unprepared for the way his heart swelled. When the need to breathe became too much, he parted their lips, just an inch, share shaky air with his brother. His nose bumped against Sam's, his heart continued to race, Dean's skin was tingling and his lips brushed once more against Sam's.

"Dean," Sam whispered against his brother's lips.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam knew it was late in the day when he woke up, he could feel the heat of the sun beating down on him but it didn't have the bite of noon day heat. Blinking his eyes open slowly Sam rubbed his cheek against the familiar skin beneath his face. Lifting his finger he traced the tattoo of his name over Dean's heart and glanced up at his brother's face. _Finally_. Dean looked rested, peaceful, and calm. His cheeks were sleep-rosy, lips parted - for once - he almost looked like the young man Sam had said good-bye to so long ago.

Pushing up on one elbow Sam smiled down at his brother and slid his hand up over his throat to drag his thumb across Dean's bottom lip. "Hey," he whispered, "we've been sleeping all day."

Stretching along the mattress, Dean's lips slowly curved up. He could most definitely get used to this. No noise of a city, the only worry a group of zombies - a nation of zombies really and yeah, that was a little freaky - but they were safe here. It could be like this, now. Dean wanted to believe that. "Did we? What's that? Seventeen hours?" He chuckled softly and turned into Sam, dragging his fingers down Sam's chest.

"Yeah," Sam grinned sleepily. They'd fallen asleep the night before still kissing, well, Sam's lips were still moving when he last remembered being awake. Not one nightmare broke his sleep all night, and for once, he felt refreshed if still a little groggy. "You sleep okay?"

"Good." Dean's arm draped across Sam's middle. "Great, actually. Didn't realize how tired I was." His eyes closed for a moment, opened again so his head could fall to the side and he could take in the warm glow of Sam's skin. "You?" He asked quietly, rolling just to the side, lips pressing into Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah. I mean, good. Feel a little guilty this morning." Sam glanced over toward the door. He'd known what he was doing the night before, but somehow, it had seemed easier in the darkness. This morning, he would have to face Chris.

"Oh." Couldn't even have a moment more. Dean closed his eyes and sighed. "Guess - guess we should get up." Dean hadn't forgotten about Chris, of course, but. There was nothing he wanted more, than this. Sam and kisses and waking up in sunshine curled together. Something clattered in the front room; Dean closed his eyes and inhaled slowly.

"Stay here." Sam pressed his lips to Dean's temple once then rolled out of bed. Tugging his jeans on he hunted around for his t-shirt and pulled it down over his head quickly. "I'll bring you some coffee." It wasn't that he was embarrassed about being out there _with_ Dean, he just thought maybe he owed Chris a bit of privacy while they spoke.

Chris was in the kitchen, Sam just followed the noise. "Chris, mornin'." Sam leaned against the doorframe and watched as Chris packed some food into one of the bags. "What you doing?"

A small smile turned Chris' lips up when he looked at Sam and he stepped closer, squeezing Sam's arm. "I think, I'm going to go and try and find my family."

"You. What?" Sam shifted closer and slid his hand over Chris' shoulder. "Why? What's going on?" The last time they'd talked about it Chris had sounded like he believed that his family wouldn't have been safe and now...

"Yesterday, when I was talking to your brother," Chris held up his hand, smiling softly. "And no, this isn't his doing or anything, don't worry. But when we were talking I asked why we're even bothering, you know? Why stay alive if the world was just, over. And his answer?" Chris ducked his head, smile growing. "You. I just, I feel like I should find that reason. Maybe it's my family, they could have survived. I don't know if I can take that chance without knowing for sure."

"I. Wow." Sam wasn't sure what surprised him more, that he was Dean's reason to stay alive or that Chris wasn't even sure he had one. "You. God, Chris it's so far. You'll be safe here." He didn't know how many arguments he had for staying because he knew that if the tables were turned; if Dean were out there somewhere Sam would be going to look for him.

"I know, it's a risk. And I know I probably won't make it." Chris drummed his fingers on the counter and shrugged. "But my mom, my sister, my dad. There is a chance, however slim. I think I should take it. And, god Sam as much as I appreciate you guys taking me along; I think you deserve a chance to be happy."

Sam could feel his cheeks heating up. "We didn't. I mean, last night - I kissed him but that's all. We didn't do anything else." Sam tugged on Chris' hand, "don't go. We _can_ figure something out here you know." His brow furrowed, his lips a pressed into a thin line. This wasn't what he'd wanted, not why he'd brought Chris along; to send him off alone on a suicide mission.

"Sam." Chris reached up, cupped his jaw and shook his head. "I've kind of been thinking about the idea for awhile now. You and Dean, that's just, a little part of it and come on, be honest, I saw you two sleeping. You looked _happy_. But, that's not - what if there's a reason for me out there? What if there are other people, or what if there's _someone_? I want to find that."

Leaning hard into Chris' hand Sam could feel tears welling in his eyes. "God, you've been the best friend to me over these past few years. _The best._ You deserve to find that person, your reason." Ducking down, Sam kissed his friend's cheek.

Smiling through the tears pricking along his eyes, Chris nodded, ducking his head down. "I'm gonna miss you Sam. Really. Who knows, maybe I'll make it back up this way again And hey, fix things with your brother dude. Seriously. You two already bicker like an old married couple." Chris looked back up at Sam, sniffing softly.

"How are you gonna get there? You need to take a gun. When you leaving?" Blinking, Sam ran a hand through his hair. "You know you can turn around, come back, anytime." Sam's mind was everywhere at once. He didn't want Chris to go and he _knew_ that he would go if the tables were turned.

"Yeah, I... maybe I could burrow a map? You got a compass or something?" Chris looked uncertainly around the kitchen.

Dean hadn't really meant to spy on them, he was just going to slip outside to take a piss, but he'd heard enough of the conversation to put two and two together. So, after a brief trip outside to check out a few things, he stepped across the living room and cleared his throat. "Hey. Sorry I, uh. Heard... Anyway, look. Tim had this truck, I just looked it's still in back. You could take that. And one of our gas containers, we'll need the other to get in town but," Dean shrugged, setting the keys on the counter beside Chris. "We can spare a few guns too, definition. Sleeping bag, water. Whatever you need."

Chris smiled up at him, reaching out to take the keys. "Yeah? I appreciate it. Probably shit with a gun though."

"We could show you, how to shoot I mean." Sam leaned back against the counter and smiled over at his brother. "Dean could, I was never as good as him. You can't leave today right?" He glanced back over at Dean, "it's too late right?" It didn't seem right to send Chris off when the sun was on its way down out of the sky.

"No you shouldn't leave tonight. You should take a day or two to fully rest up, you aren't going to be able to sleep much on the drive." Dean agreed with a nod, a little surprised still that Chris had even suggested this. It was going to be dangerous out there, more than, Dean wasn't quite sure the man really grasped what he was about to get into. "And yeah, we'll show you how to shoot."

"Thank you," Chris glanced toward Dean then back at Sam, sighing softly. "And I can come back here? If they're not... if I don't find anything?"

"Of course you can. We won't be moving from here. Right, Dean?" Sam stepped closer to his brother and reached out for him, then dropped his hand.

"Right. You can come back any time," Dean glanced at Sam, reached out and wrapped his fingers around his arm. He was going to fight for this. Yesterday he was going to let Sam be happy with Chris if that's what he wanted. Since it didn't seem like it was going to happen, Dean was shoving that idea away. No, this was Dean's turn now. And Sam's skin was warm and smooth beneath his fingers. "Just, be careful who you pick up alright? If you run into people along the way, use caution. You're gonna have a working car and people are going to want a ride but these types of situations, people get a little crazy alright?"

"Crazy?" Chris scrunched his face up. "But I, I should stop right? If I see people I should stop and offer help?" Chris looked toward Sam, uncertain frown on his lips.

"It's complicated Chris. People are gonna lie, we don't know how fast they change. If they have time after they're bitten they might try to convince you they're fine. You'll just have to be careful. Don't trust easily. Don't get yourself killed. I want you to come back here one day." Sam smiled sadly, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, okay." Chris nodded, fingers curling around the counter top. "So, now what? I mean, do we start training now? Or uh," he wet his lips and looked between them, face scrunching up slightly.

Dean smiled softly and shrugged. "Maybe you should relax for awhile, take a little while to sort through things?" Dean's fingers trailed down Sam's arm, looping around his wrist.

"Relax?" Chris arched an eyebrow and laughed. "Wow, so that's obviously easily done."

"Okay, well, rest then. You need to catch up. God knows I slept long enough." Sam's fingers twitched and he pulled back slightly to take Dean's hand in his. There was no way he could help but close his eyes for a few moments. Such a subtle movement, simple, but the fact that Dean didn't pull away made Sam's stomach do the strangest flip.

"Come on," Sam smiled at Chris warmly, "whoever's waiting for you in Texas today, they'll be there tomorrow or the day after. Just rest a bit, eat some good meals. Then, I won’t say a thing if you want to go. Okay?" Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yeah, okay," Chris nodded slowly and yawned. "I did kind of not sleep so well last night. Got to thinking you know? As you can imagine. I just... I want to get really fucking drunk you know? Get really fucking drunk and pass out and sleep through the night and just," Chris' shoulders shook on his exhale.

Dean chuckled softly, nodding, squeezing Sam's hand because it felt good. Right. "You could man. You wanna get drunk? Go for it. I'll stay sober, Sam, uh, well," Dean shrugged and stroked his thumb down the side of Sam's hand. "I know Tim's got alcohol around here."

"Dean Winchester saying no to a drink?" The teasing smile on Sam's face faded when he saw Dean's smile. "You can make sure we don't hurt ourselves." It wasn't lost on Sam that, for once, Dean wanted to stay sober - maybe to feel.

"There's several reasons to stay sober." Dean glanced up at Sam and shrugged. "A big one being the whole, zombie crisis, another being," Dean cut off, looked away and swallowed. He wasn't going to let his first time with Sam be while the man was drunk, someone had to be their right mind. "Well, should I look around then for alcohol?"

"Yes, please," Chris nodded and half smiled.

Dean's free hand pressed into Sam's chest for just a moment, resting above his heart before he stepped away and headed through the cabin. "There's a cellar around back, I think he'll have thing stashed there."

When the door had closed behind Dean, Chris turned to Sam and raised an eyebrow. "So, just kissing then?"

Sam was still smiling when he turned to Chris. "Yeah," he stared at Chris' look of doubt. "Yes!" Shaking his head Sam nodded towards the living room for Chris to follow him. "Some things ya take slowly, you know?" Sam flopped down onto the couch.

"I get it," Chris nodded and smiled, dropping down in the chair. "But, it's good right? Better? God Sam, if you should have heard the way he talked about you yesterday."

"Yeah?" Sam's smiled softened. Maybe if they'd said those things to each other things would have worked out better for them, or sooner, or something. "He's never told me anything like that." Shrugging a shoulder Sam kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

"He'll get to it." Chris nodded, seeming confident in his words. "Sam. Man, he, the things he said. It was like, he called you his fucking _light_. He said you were, the only damn reason he breathed. That's just... those feelings. That's intense."

Sam frowned slightly and looked down. "I guess. He never told me all that stuff." It felt kind of strange that Dean had chosen to tell Chris of all people. "Why did he tell you?"

"Oh," Chris rubbed along his neck and shrugged. "He was, saying all these things. About how he wanted you to be happy, and how he thought you'd chosen me. And that he'd be okay with it, that he was going to try for you. So you'd be happy you know? Then he said if I hurt you he'd slit my wrists and leave me for zombie dinner." Chris looked up at Sam with slightly wide eyes. "Pretty sure he was dead serious about that."

Laughing quietly Sam folded his arms. "He would _not_ leave you anywhere. Well. No, he probably wouldn't. God, Chris. You better come back here. I'm gonna miss you." Sam's smile warmed.

"You think he'd really be okay? If I came back?" Chris asked curiously, looking toward the door as if he expected Dean to walk through right then.

"Yeah, I do," Sam replied without hesitation. "He's. He's changed a lot, he's not like what he seems. _God_ , that doesn't even make sense. Just, the way he's lived. I'm gonna spend a lot of time trying to make things right for him." Sam nodded slowly to himself.

"Will you be okay? Here with him? Because I won't go if you don't think you're going to be okay." Chris said quietly, pushing up out of the chair and dropping by Sam on the couch, laying a hand on his thigh.

"I'll be fine. Dean's my," Sam shrugged, "my Dean." Grabbing Chris' hand he smiled. "You leave if you gotta leave, stay if you want. This is all you, man. I'm good." Sam hoped he would be good, he was pretty sure he would be. Sure, they had a lot to work out. A lot - like eight years of messed up - a lot.

Slouching on the couch, Chris laid his head on Sam's shoulder and smiled. "I hope I find someone as special. Guess it would have to be if I found anyone at all in this fucked up world huh?"

"You never know, man. Stranger things have happened. _Trust_ me." Sam could list a million of them; stories from his dad. Couples who found each other more than once in a life time, reincarnation, possession. As far as Sam figured anything was possible.

"Yeah I hope-" Chris cut off when the door opened.

"God," Dean stopped in his tracks, blinked at the two on the couch and shook his head. "I leave you alone for a few minutes, come back and you're all over my man. You’re like a disease." He huffed, carrying the bottles to the coffee table and dropping them down. When he looked up, both Chris and Sam were staring at him and he laughed. A real, genuine laugh. "I'm kidding. Well, kind of. About some bits. You guys want food before you get wasted?"

Finally laughing Sam elbowed Chris. "Well, yeah, and when Chris here finally recovers from that shock - he'll probably say yes too. You cooking?" Memories flooded Sam's mind again. All the times Dean had dinner ready for him when he came home from school. Over the years when their father had been away Dean had learned how to create a real home cooked mean from hardly anything. "He's good." Sam nodded seriously at Chris.

"If you want to call it that," Dean laughed, heading for the kitchen. Less than two beats later he was back, pointing a box of crackers at Chris. "Seriously though, hands off."

Chris laughed and shook his head as he sat up. "Fucking crazy people."

-=-=-=-

"So then like, you just like, you like, pull out the gun and just WHAM." Chris waved his arms about, obviously trying to do some mime version of the gun shot Dean sent through the first zombies head. "I mean, no. Seriously. _No_. Who does that? Who even fucking _does_ that? Dude. What. It's just. Damn, I need more liquor."

Dean's eyebrows raised but he poured another drink 'cause, yeah, drunk Chris? Pretty fucking funny. And, as it turned out, Dean was kind of growing to like the guy. He could see what Sam saw in him which kind of made him like him less. "Sam, another for you?" Dean glanced over at his brother, small smile on his lips.

"You don't want me to be completely unable to talk later d'ya?" Sam grinned and slid a little further down on the couch. "M'drunk enough now," he added. "And now that I think about it, Dude, Chris. You. You should really stop too - you get all weird when you're drunk." He hiccupped and rolled his eyes.

"Transl- translu- no. I get, I get horny," Chris leaned toward Dean, whisper slurring the words as if it were some grand secret. "I don't suppose you'd lend-" He cut off as Dean's eyes widened. "No? No dice? Damn. No Sam? This would be, you know, you know, good time. Crazy fucking zombies, eatin'... people. People eatin' zombies. Fuck."

"Yeah, I think Chris has reached his limit," Dean chuckled quietly and ignored the bite of jealousy imagining all the times Sam and Chris got drunk and, yeah. He didn't really need to go there. So he screwed the lid on the bottle and sat back on the couch, draping his arm over Sam's shoulder, leaning into him.

"Told ya." Sam nodded smugly and leaned over to whisper in Dean's ear, "he gets weird." Slipping his fingers over Dean's thigh Sam settled against his side. "Chris, you are awesome but I think you're gonna pass out soon. I've seen it before man, I know the signs." Sam rolled his head to the side and patted Chris on the cheek.

"Man, you just. You want me to go. Bed I mean. ‘Cause you wanna, do stuff. To your Dean." Chris snorted and pushed himself up, wavered for a moment and held his arms out. "M'good. Bed. Fucking bed, for sure." He stumbled down the hall, burping loudly and calling good night.

Dean listened to the door shut and shook his head. "Man, is he going to be okay?" Dean turned to Sam, wetting his lips. He was closer than he thought, he could smell alcohol and Sam, he smiled.

"He's fine. Yeah, he's a trooper." Sam grinned, he grinned a lot when he was drunk, he'd learned that a long time ago. "I think he's scared. I mean, who wouldn't be right? But he's gonna go find his Dean. He said that's what you said. Wait. He said I was your reason. He's gotta look for his." Sam turned onto his side so he was facing Dean and tucked his fingers under the hem of his brother's shirt.

"He told you that huh?" Dean asked quietly, stroking his fingers through Sam's hair. He'd never get tired of how soft it was. "I hope he finds someone, I really do." Dean dipped down, rested his forehead against Sam's.

"Ya never know right?" That's what it came down to, you just never knew and really Sam thought Chris had made the right choice. "He said he knew that we weren't forever. Me and him." Maybe Sam wore it on him somehow, that he belonged to someone else. Even when it was someone who wasn't there.

Frowning slightly, Dean massaged his brother's neck softly. "Do you, wish, sometimes, that you could have been? Do you want that with him?" He wanted to ask, _do you want me_ , but he figured Sam could read between the lines. Even drunk.

"You don't really think that." Sam's brow furrowed and he sat up. He wasn't as drunk as Dean seemed to think he was. "You don't do you?" Shaking his head Sam sighed out a breath. "Dean, I've always belonged to you." It was easy to say because it was true.

Sighing softly, Dean shook his head. "I don't really think that. I," Dean reached out for Sam, not wanting him to pull away. _I've always belonged to you._ It made his heart flutter. "I've always wanted you. Always Sammy, always needed you, wanted you. You're just, you're everything to me." Dean dragged his thumb down Sam's jaw, slid it up to brush his lower lip.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, lips moving over Dean's thumb. "I was _so_ scared. You know - we were so young and it was a lot. I." He shook his head. He'd thought over how to explain it a hundred times, all those times he imagined that Dean might come for him. He'd thought about how he could make it right - make Dean understand and all his words just disappeared now he had his chance.

"We were. So young. And so, different. Now, we're different again." Dean smiled softly, stroking Sam's lip almost without thought. "Sam. You should know, I forgave you, a long time ago. That wasn't ever why I didn't come. I was scared, and I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have been, I should have come for you, before this. Before the end of the world. I should have _been_ with you." Dean met Sam's eyes; let him see how much he meant his words.

Sam shrugged and smiled. "It's not the end of the world. It's just some zombies, right?" His hand slipped over Dean's cheek. "Whatever it is, I'm glad that you came to find me." His eyes were closing, he was trying to stay awake - talk more - but _God_ , being pressed up against Dean like that - it was the most peaceful place in the world.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be." Dean murmured and stood, grabbing Sam’s hand. "Come on Sammy, let's go to bed." His heart flipped in his chest. Just the idea of lying in bed with Sam again, he couldn't imagine anything more appealing. Well, he could, but that time would come.

Sam hummed his agreement quietly and let Dean half-push him toward the edge of the couch. "I always seem to be tired lately," he mumbled. When he managed to get to his feet he swayed forward into Dean. "He's gonna be alright isn't he?" Worry still gnawed at Sam; Chris didn't know how to handle a gun - hell - he didn't even like pulling the legs off cooked lobsters. Sam wasn't sure what would happen to him.

"Yeah Sam, he's gonna be alright." Dean, in part, believed it. He'd seen people at the worst, seen them face danger and do amazing things. Chris seemed smart on his feet, and apparently determined, that could get a person places. "We'll work with him, teach him. He'll make it." Dean hooked his arm around Sam's body, leading him toward the bedroom. "C'mon, almost in bed."

"I know, I'm a bit drunk not blind." Sam laughed, caught up in how clever he was. It would have been an awesome statement if he hadn't walked right into the door frame. " _That_ is gonna bruise," he muttered.

Dean laughed softly and shook his head. "Always so smooth." He led Sam the rest of the way in the room, making sure he was stable before stripping down to his boxers. "Need any help my love?" He was teasing with the nickname; he cringed at the words regardless.

Chuckling quietly, Sam let his arms flop to his sides. "Yup. Need help." He sank down on to the bed. "My love?" Flopping back he laughed a little louder. Now there was something he never thought he'd hear Dean say.

"God, don't. Just, let's leave it at that." Dean shook his head and laughed quietly at himself. Moving to the side of the bed he slipped his fingers under Sam's shirt, dragging up his sides as he lifted the fabric. He took too long pushing at the fabric, letting his fingers map over smooth skin, curve around Sam's arms; tug his brother up until he could pull the shirt off. "I fail at terms of endearment." Dean’s fingers were back over Sam's skin. He wasn't going to get tired of this any time soon.

Sam rested his hands on Dean's chest and grinned down at him. "I remember when you were taller than me-" Sam's eyebrows lifted and his gaze dropped. " _What_ is going on here?" Pulling back slightly Sam gazed down. "Nipple rings? Dean! You have nipple rings." His lips pursed for a few moments then a lopsided smile grew on his face. _Dean_ had nipple rings. "Oh."

Eyebrows arching slightly, Dean half smirked. "Yeah. Yeah, I got, well. I went through this piercing phase. You, uh, you like that?" He wet his lips slightly and his blood kicked up in his body, his heart thrummed faster, blinking slowly.

"Yeah," Sam sank back down onto the bed and let his hand drag down till he could tug slightly on each of the rings. A bit slow on the uptake Sam blinked up at his brother, watching the flush rise up the man's chest. "Piercing phase? Are there more?"

Dean grinned, slowly shaking his head. "No. There used to be, besides the earring. But uh, I took them out after an almost nasty incident a ghoul. Had my eyebrow. Lip, tongue. Tongue felt weird though. Lip was kind of a pain. The ghoul thing was the eyebrow one and, yeah." Dean was impressed he'd managed to get through that much, the way Sam had tugged, it was like a pulse of blood straight to his cock and yeah, his boxers weren't going to hide that.

"And they feel good? When people-" Sam shrugged a shoulder, finger still moving in a circle over the silver ring. "Seems like it might hurt." He'd never really thought about piercings before - but then Dean would look hot in just about anything. He'd always been like that. Sam figured it was his eyes, and the freckles - the freckles made you think you were safe then the eyes - just looked right into you.

"Yeah, it feels good. Hurts a little, sometimes, but, you learn. The right pressure to use. The rings mostly stay cool, so when lips, and," Dean shrugged and resisted arching his chest into Sam's touch. "I think you'll get it, learn that is."

Swallowing, Sam pulled back shyly. "Guess I will." Letting his head fall back he gazed up at Dean. "I still have my jeans on - and we need to get in bed." He tried for commanding and figured it fell short a little judging by the way Dean smiled down at him and smoothed his hair back. "You like my hair," Sam mumbled.

"Looks good this long." Dean's mind flashed with the idea of pressing Sam into the bed, crushing their lips together, feeling skin against skin. "Missed, this. You." He sighed softly and pressed Sam gently down onto the bed, undoing the button, dragging the fly down. "Hey, when I said, um, about you learning. That wasn't too presumptuous was it?" He briefly smiled, tugging at the denim until it slid free and he could pull it off.

"You askin' me if I've been with someone before who had a nipple ring?" Sam wriggled back slowly along the bed and kicked out of his jeans. "Nope. No. Haven't." Sam yawned. "Haven't been with that many people. Are you asking me that? Do you wanna know." Sam wrestled with the covers for a few moments then gave up.

"Uh, no. That... no. I don't, I think knowing about Chris is enough." Dean climbed over Sam, pushing at the blanket and sliding under and tucking it over his brother. "I was asking if it was too presumptuous to assume you'd _want_ to learn." He draped his arm around Sam's middle, burying his head into the pillow for a moment.

"Oh, I wanna learn." Sam rolled into Dean's side and flung an arm across him. "I wanna learn everything."

Dipping his head, Dean smiled softly and tilted up just to brush his lips against Sam's. "Good. Night Sam" He deepened the kiss for just a moment and pulled Sam in close. They'd be okay. They'd make this work. And Dean couldn't wait to learn everything about Sam, everything that could make him fall apart in the best, most perfect ways.

-=-=-=-

"Ah, see, you were closer that time. The problem is you're tensing your shoulders; you're letting the shot control you. You should be controlling the shot." Dean rested his hand on Chris' shoulder, pressing down just slightly. It had been awhile since he taught someone to shoot, been awhile since someone needed him like that. It was nice, he wouldn't lie. But then, a lot of things were nice. Here. With Sam.

"Good, give it another try then." Dean murmured a few minutes later, once his brother had finished lining up the cans that had fallen once more and gotten out of the way.

Chris was a quick learner, maybe a born shooter, maybe just the right shade of determined to make this work. Dean slid back, gave him some space and used the moment as an excuse to press against Sam's side, one shoulder positioned in front of Sam's, just the slightest back to front heat. "He'll have the whole row down by the end of the day," Dean said quietly, watching Chris pull up, relax his shoulders, take control of the shot. "He's a natural."

Sam slipped two fingers through Dean's belt loop. "Thank you." He watched Chris shooting, watching him breathe the way Dean had told him, aim and fire. Dean was right, Chris was doing well. It comforted Sam; knowing that they were giving Chris a chance out there.

"I wouldn't just send them out there to fend for himself," Dean said quietly, smiling for a moment when Chris reloaded the weapon. "You should tell him to stay; I can tell you're going to spend a really long time worrying about him." Dean wet his lips and looked over at Sam. "Do you want us to go with him?"

"It doesn't make sense to leave here unless you're searching for something. What I'm searching for? It's right here." Sam smiled slightly and watched Chris aim again. "I asked him if he wanted to stay. He needs to do this. You know what that's like." They both knew what that was like.

Dean nodded slowly, slid his shoulder just slightly across Sam's chest, leaning back into his warmth. "Yeah, I know what that's like." He hoped Chris could find it, and maybe some part of him hoped Chris would survive. It would make Sam happy if he turned up some day. "You should be practicing," Dean murmured, head tilting back to observe the way Sam's throat worked as he swallowed. "You could use some sharpening of your skills too."

"You naggin' me?" Sam waited until he was sure Chris was focused on a shot and then leaned forward slightly to breathe across Dean's ear. "Guess, when Chris is gone you'll have to spend some time familiarizing me with things again." His lips brushed Dean's ear and his fingers tugged gently on the man's jeans. Sam liked the way he could watch pleasure slide up Dean's body. It was subtle, the shift of his body weight, the change in the rhythm of his breathing, the way he blinked just a little more often.

Sliding his hip just slightly back into his brother's body, Dean closed his eyes for just a moment and smiled. "Guess so. Probably lots of things to familiarize you with." Dean felt just the slightest twinge of guilt for momentarily looking forward to Chris leaving so he said nothing about it. Chris took another shot, hit the can right in the middle and Dean smiled brighter. "See, that's a lot better," Dean called and half turned long enough to brush his lips against Sam's before crossing to Chris. He had to have the little things, right now, to keep the information secure in his mind that this was _real_.

-=-=-=-

"So," Sam tugged on Chris collar and straightened his jacket, "you'll stay to the back roads, and _don't_ get suckered in by anyone. I mean, I know you." Sam's hand settled against the back of Chris' neck. "Just don't go feeling bad for people and trying to help them out." Pressing his lips together he glanced over at Dean, "Right?"

"Just be smart about it. I think if you see a little girl wondering you're probably good just," Dean sighed and shrugged. It was impossible to explain the safest way to judge people, that was just something you had to learn for yourself.

"Once they're bitten Chris, that's it, okay? There's no going back from it. Blood in open wounds, cuts, even if they seem like they might be okay, that's not the case. So you've got to keep an eye out for that. People will try and fool you." Dean smiled.

Chris' lips thinned out and he shook his head. "Are you trying to talk me out of this?"

"No, just keeping you smart." Dean chuckled softly, heading around to check the supplies in the back of the truck, giving Sam and Chris a moment alone for their goodbye.

"I'm going to be okay," Chris said quietly, pressing his hand on Sam's chest. "I'll be back here before you know it, making Dean jealous and all, you'll see."

Sam took a deep breath and looked down at the ground for a few moments. "I just, are you sure? I mean, I know it would be shitty here with us - but we would honestly make it work." Eyes prickling with tears Sam looked back up at his friend.

"Hey, it wouldn't be shitty," Chris shook his head, cupping his cheek. "I'm not leaving because of you two. You know I just, I have to look. I'll probably chicken out after the first zombie encounter and high tail it back here alright?" He chuckled softly, nervously, and dropped his hand.

"Okay." Sam took a deep breath and reached out the pull Chris into his arms. "Be careful," he whispered against his friend’s hair. "Come back." Letting him go quickly Sam squeezed Chris' shoulder and then messed up his hair. It was hard to push aside the thought that this might actually be the last time they saw each other.

"Yeah, I will. Take care," Chris threw his arms around Sam, squeezed him tight and pressed his lips firm against his cheek. "I'll see you soon," he murmured as he dropped back, hand sliding up through his hair.

"Here," Dean rejoined them, offering Chris a bundle of cash. "It's not going to have much value but people won't think that. You can use it to get supplies; most people will think it'll help them in some way." Dean's fingers slid along the back of his neck, rubbing softly as Chris pocketed the money and slid in behind the driver's seat.

"Thanks. Both of you. And, you know, make things right and shit," Chris waved at them through the window.

"Don't forget to put the lock back on the gate." Dean reminded and half smirked. "Sorry, all business. Be safe man."

Chris nodded, taking a deep breath, and then started up the engine. Sam called a final goodbye, another round of come back soon, and Dean stepped up to his side and gently slid his fingers across Sam's palm as they watched the truck heading down the drive. "We'll see him again," he said softly, fingers threading between Sam's.

"I hope so," Sam's voice was soft. Squeezing Dean's hand he ran his other hand through his hair. "Somehow, this feels worse than leaving home. Kind of like an end. I don't know." He wondered how long it would take for his nerves to stop jittering. How long would it be before he stopped looking for the truck, listening for the rumble of its engine?

"Worse than leaving home a few days ago? Or, worse than leaving home..." Dean scrunched his face up slightly, fingers tightening around Sam's hand. He didn't know how to best comfort Sam here, was too conflicted with his own emotions to really be very good at it.

"Nothing was worse than leaving home the first time." Sam squeezed Dean's fingers and kept staring down the road. "You and I, we've got a lot of catching up to do - 'cause it breaks my heart that you wouldn't know the answer to that question." Smiling sadly Sam turned and leaned in to press his lips to his brother's temple.

Closing his eyes, leaning into the touch, Dean counted the gentle thrum of his pulse in his ears until he reached twenty. It was soothing for the slight pinch in his heart because Sam was right, that was a bit sad he hadn't already known that. "Spent eight years thinking you didn't want me, guess I'm still trying to convince myself that you do." Dean's eyes opened and the dirt cloud from Chris' departure had completely cleared; Dean looked at his brother and studied his expression.

"Guess we'll both have to work on that." Finally letting go of his brother’s belt loop Sam leaned back a little. "What are you looking for when you look at me like that?" There were those green eyes again, staring right inside Sam - trying to find out all his secrets.

Quirking an eyebrow up, Dean just barely shook his head, eyes still locked on his brother. "Not really looking for anything, just kind of, looking." He laughed softly and turned his gaze away, content to stay this close to Sam though they had miles of space to call their own. "So, what now? How do we pass our time?"

"I'm sure we can think of something." Sam stuffed his hands into his pockets, "coffee?" He turned and headed back toward the cabin. Now that it was just the two of them he was nervous; worried that maybe they would just fall straight back into old patterns, hurting each other and pushing each other away. Wouldn't work out all that well now there were just them.

"Sure." Dean nodded, itched to take Sam's hand but followed him instead. It's what he did, after all, one step in front of another but this one and the one following felt more purposeful. "We got a lot to talk about huh?" It was the conversation they'd been dancing around, just little insights to this and that but Sam probably had questions. Dean just hoped he had answers for them.

Pulling the cabin door open Sam glanced back over his shoulder and smiled. "You remember when we were kids how much I used to babble at you all the time? God, sometimes you used to holler at me to shut up." The door slammed shut behind Dean and Sam headed into the kitchen to grab the kettle. "You want coffee? Or something else?"

"Coffee is fine." Dean smiled softly and dragged his fingers along the back of his neck. "You used to drive me crazy sometimes. I swear, once you went on about the merits of plain M&Ms to peanut M&Ms for an hour." There was still a packet of M&Ms in Dean's bag, he laughed softly and followed Sam across the cabin, standing to the side to give him room to move.

The kettle clanked down on the stove top - the fire still going from earlier that morning. "Water'll be done soon." Sam brushed his hair back off his face as he stood. "Hey, the M&M things, was that the night, we, uh... well, I guess it was me-" Sam's laughter was warm, he loved remembering the _good_ times.

"Our first kiss, yeah," Dean nodded, staring at the ground for a moment before Sam's words clicked. "Wait, you?" He looked back up, eyes widening slightly. "I thought it was me who first... I mean, I was pretty sure," Dean frowned, trying to draw up the memory. "We were in the back of the Impala, with the windows down, I remember because the wind kept blowing in and making your hair go everywhere. And we were eating the candy; I think you asked, something about eating while kissing or something. Somehow the topic of sharing M&Ms while kissing came up and then..." Dean could just remember them coming together but he'd always thought he'd been the one to lean in first, parting his lips against Sam's, taking the M&M from his tongue.

"...and then I leaned closer. It was your lips and the way you looked when I was babbling. Your eyes were so dark and beautiful. Don't laugh, I think that's the first time I ever thought eyes could even _be_ beautiful. Leaned in because I wanted to taste you and the chocolate, I don't know, crazy teenage guy thing I guess." Sam turned and pulled the kettle off the stove and poured it into the two mugs he'd put instant coffee in. Stirring them slowly for a while Sam finally picked up both mugs, handed one to Dean and headed over to drop down on the couch.

Sam kicked his boots off. "Wasn't the first time I thought about it ya know?"

Wetting his lips, Dean crossed to the couch and set the coffee cup on the table, rubbing his hands on his thighs. He half started toward the bedroom, opened his mouth to say something, closed it and headed for the bedroom. It took a few minutes to find the bag of M&Ms amongst his stuff and he was a little relieved that they were still intact. When he returned to the living room Sam's shoulders were slightly stiff, Dean thought he used to know what that meant but didn't want to try and guess now.

Dropping on the couch beside his brother, Dean tossed the bag of candy on his thigh and smiled. "Last thing I bought. On my way to you." His lips pressed together for a moment and he shrugged. "Wasn't the first time I thought it either, the kiss thing? Just so you know."

Sam blew out a relieved breath. "Thought you walked off 'cause you were pissed or something." Fingering the corner of the bag Sam smiled. "You got M&M's." He laughed softly and leaned forward to put his coffee down so he could open the bag. Dumping a few into his hand he tossed them into his mouth then held out the bag to his brother. "Want some?"

"No I," Dean cut off on the words, looking down at his lap and sighing. "I haven't eaten M&Ms in, the whole time. I just, god. It's stupid. I can't eat them without thinking about kissing you and it just, makes me feel tight in my chest." Dean frowned. He shouldn't be like this, it would probably make Sam upset, so he reached out for the bag, took a few and held them in his palm. "Used to buy a bag on your birthday each year. Should have sent a card."

Sam's hand reached out and grabbed and handful of his brother's shirt pulling him hard. Their mouths collided too roughly at first and Sam hissed softly then pulled back slightly; as soon as he felt Dean's lips part Sam slid his tongue forward, pushing a piece of candy into the heat of his brother's mouth. Moaning softly he loosened his grip slightly and leaned back, breaking the kiss. "How did that one feel? The M&M I mean."

Sucking in a quick breath, Dean rolled the candy across his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment as he savored the taste of his brother mixed with chocolate. "Really good." He smiled and opened his eyes, sliding closer to his brother. "So it was really you who kissed me first. I can't believe I forgot that. I should have known that." For some reason it made things different, he didn't know why but it did.

"I was always spoiled. When did I not get what I wanted, when I wanted it?" Sam had to look away; he knew that Dean had always given him everything that he wanted, often going without himself.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry that I left the way I did - _when_ I did. It was wrong- and the only excuse that I have is that I was young and there was so much I didn't understand. It's not like the world approves of who - we are - or what we are. That was a lot to deal with when I was eighteen."

"I know." And Dean did, know at least, that the world didn't approve. He didn't understand it really but only because he'd never been of the world, he was the back room drifter, the nameless face, the person you saw once and not again.

"Maybe, it was for the best, back then." Dean said quietly, twisting his fingers together on his lap. "You were always made for so much more Sam. I think you needed the time, needed to find who _you_ were. Because, you were always just my Sammy before, and you still are. But you're just, you're you. The person you've let yourself become without feeling obligated to follow expectations you didn't want." Dean glanced up at his brother, hoping that at least made sense enough to him.

"Funny how you think I needed more - and yet, here I am right back where I started; with you." Turning to face his brother, Sam chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments. "I never felt a sense of obligation." It was important to Sam that his brother know that. Nothing he ever did with Dean was about obligation. "My whole life, growing up I felt like I wanted to be with you. It never mattered what you thought, I mean you were always trying to get rid of me." Sam smiled. "You must also remember that you never could get rid of me."

Sighing, Sam shifted closer so his fingers could slide up over Dean's hair. "I just need you to know that I always wanted this. You. Even when I didn't understand it. Even when it scared the _shit_ out of me and I ran away. I was staring at that door every _fucking_ day wanting you to walk through it."

"Why didn't you ever ask me to come?" Dean met his brother's gaze, glad for the little bit of a touch. "When I called, however rarely, I always, I just thought. If you would just ask me to come and see you, then I would know that you didn't mean it when you said no and," Dean shrugged and blew out a long breath. "I know, you didn't mean it. Not that way. But I didn't know that then."

"I didn't think you'd come." Sam smiled weakly and gripped Dean's hair tightly before letting his hand slide down to his brother's shoulder. "No excuse, I know."

"This is probably going to drive you crazy but you should know," Dean frowned and picked at his jeans, wanting to look up but too scared. "Every time I called I was already there. Or somewhere relatively close. Just in case." His shoulders lifted in a shrug and dropped and he wondered how long it would take before either was willing to simply accept this as truth, as the past, and move on.

"So, should we just realize that we're idiots and move forward?" Sam huffed out a small laugh. Knowing Dean was there all that time _did_ make him a little crazy but it was the past. Fighting, arguing, being hurt, all of that wasn't going to do anything now except firmly root them in what had already happened.

"I was just thinking that," Dean chuckled softly and turned to his brother, meeting his gaze. "Is there anything you need to ask me? Any other unfinished business or anything? Because I really want to make things better with us, I _want_ you, okay? I just think, maybe some things need to be said? And I can help with that?" Dean's hands curled on Sam's thighs, pressing down into the denim.

"You forgive me?" Sam wasn't sure what he needed to be forgiven for but he was pretty sure there was a lot.

Smiling softly, Dean cupped Sam's cheek and ran the pad of his thumb along his skin. "Of course. Do you forgive me?" Clean slate. That would go a long way for them.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

Oddly enough, it seemed pretty small but it felt pretty huge. A beginning or an end. Something. A direction. Maybe that was it, a direction. Sam's smile widened a little and he turned into Dean's touch.

"Sam?" Dean leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his brother's. "I love you."

"Now see, that was one thing I _never_ doubted." Sam grabbed the back of Dean's neck. "Love you. Always have."

Smiling softly, Dean closed his eyes around the swell of pleasure Sam's words stirred up in him. Dipping forward, he brushed his lips to Sam's, lingered there and deepened a moment later, sliding across Sam's lap to press in closer and pull in his warmth.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was fairly sure he'd done more talking throughout the course of the day then he had in the last eight years combined. He also, most definitely, did more laughing than he had in those eight years as well. They shared coffee, shared kisses, lounged on the couch for several hours until Dean's legs itched with the need to move. They walked along the length of the parameter, discussing further plans for safety, what they'd do when they needed to make a supplies run, how they could live off the land. Sam suggested a garden; Dean put aside his love of meat to agree that fresh vegetables would be helpful.

They ate lunch outside and Dean told Sam about the last eight years, about the crazier things he'd done, the time he bungee jumped off a bridge just to see if the rush would be worth it. Compared to Sam, it wasn't anything. He skirted around details about the people he'd been with. Sam didn't need to hear that, didn't need to know all the things he'd done just to _feel_. There were some things that were best left in the past. And this world, it was his and Sam's now, they needed to be okay because there was nowhere else to go.

Over the afternoon they worked clearing off the side patch along the cabin, a perfect spot for a garden. There was just enough of the year left to get a selection of crops growing, it would last them through winter if they gathered more supplies from the nearest towns before then. Dean suggested they store up on gas as well, so the generator could be used when the winter months got too cold.

By the time dinner was done and the sun was setting, Dean felt satisfied with how the day had gone. And yeah, his throat felt a little raw but it was worth it. Things felt _good_ , better than, and Dean felt light. Lighter than air. A million shades better than he had been for so long. That was likely why he couldn't wipe the smile from his face as he and Sam were once more on the couch, pressed side to side, Dean's hand on Sam's thigh. "This is nice," he whispered, turning enough for his lips to brush against Sam's shoulder. "Thought I'd go crazy without TV and everything but, I kind of like it."

"Really? See. I pegged you for the kind of guy who'd go a little crazy out here in the quiet." There were lots of things to get to know about his brother and that was okay with Sam. They had time. His lips twitched into a smile and he rubbed them against Dean's hair. "Want to know what I do like?"

Parting his lips on a soft pant, Dean's eyes flickered for a moment and his lips twitched up. "What do you like?" He murmured, nearly whispering so as not to break the warm little cocoon that was them, there, safe and loved.

"No hair gel." Sam's lips brushed back and forth across Dean's hair for a few moments and then he pressed them gently to Dean's forehead. They smelled fresh now, like the outdoors and hard work, sweat and sunshine. Sam could get _very_ used to that.

Chuckling softly, Dean reached out, laid his palm flat against Sam's chest to measure each inhale. "It's kind of nice not to have to worry about things like styling my hair." Not that he'd ever really worried about it. Just another thing to keep his mind occupied. "I hope Chris comes back, I really do, but... if it's just you and me, for the rest of our lives, I'm okay with that."

"It's only been one day, give it time," Sam teased. "What if you get tired of me? Miss M&M's. Miss beer. You never know." Sam grinned and shifted slightly. "You tired?" His heart picked up speed a little, hips shifting restlessly. "We haven't. Well." His hand lifted then fell back to his leg.

"No, not really tired." Dean glanced over at Sam, lips curving in a slow smirk. "Wouldn't say no to being in bed though." There were a whole slew of things they hadn't done. Dean's mind was already reeling with possibilities and he pushed up to his feet, dragging his shirt off in the process. "Haven't what?" He asked, smiling down at Sam.

Sam shrugged a shoulder, swallowing and letting his eyes soak in every inch of his brother's body. Shifting to the edge of the couch he reached up a hand and ran his finger across the biggest scar. "Tell me about it." Curling his fingers of his other hand over Dean's hip Sam pulled him closer.

Wetting his lips with a slow slide of his tongue, Dean rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Couple years back, had this hunt with poltergeist, usual thing, nothing I couldn't handle. There was this, guy. Josh. Got caught up in the fight, saw some shit, and freaked out. So after, we hooked up. Didn't seem like much, went normal or well, whatever." Dean blew out a low breath and looked to the side. "I guess I should have noticed the signs. He wanted a bit too much, got a bit too rough. I didn't even realize what was happening 'til he had me tied to the bed and, well, wrong side of the blade and all."

"What?" Sam's fingers slid back over the scar, tracing the line of it so smooth and straight. "Wow - that's kind of terrifying. Tied to the bed?" Sam tilted his head back to stare up at his brother's face. "Was that part forced on you?" He let his hand pushed up over Dean's ribs to his nipple so he could trace the cool metal. So many things he didn't know about Dean.

Chuckling softly, Dean dragged a hand through his hair and shifted closer to his brother. "No. That part wasn't forced. Not sure what came over him. I think he might have killed me if I wasn't stronger than him. I'm not sure he really grasped who he was dealing with." Shaking his head slightly, Dean reached out and slid a hand through Sam's hair. "But the tying up thing. I was okay with that."

"Live and learn I guess. Don't let people tie you up unless, well." Sam leaned forward to trace his lips along the scar. "Kinda makes me jealous," he murmured against his brother's skin. The idea of Dean trusting someone that much - letting another man tie him down. It made Sam's stomach twist unpleasantly. "Don't tell me anymore." Lapping at the smooth skin of Dean's scar, Sam slid his arm all the way round his brother's waist and held him tightly.

Swallowing a tidal wave of arousal, Dean shifted forward slightly. "You wanna tie me up Sammy?" He murmured, fingers sliding through Sam's hair slowly. He wasn't going to lie, that idea sounded more than appealing. But he wasn't certain what Sam was into. From what he'd gathered, they seemed pretty close to the same page.

"I've wanted a lot of things for a long time." Sam's breath hitched as he felt Dean's muscles ripple beneath his lips. "You. Was he?" Sam growled softly in frustration. "Are you a bottom? That's all I've ever done but it could be one of those things, you know, that I learn." Sam's eyes widened when he turned his gaze back up to his brother.

"Sam," Dean felt just the slightest surge of adrenaline, the flare of _want_ and _need_. His hands curled around Sam's arms and he pulled his brother up to his feet, crushed him in against his chest and slanted their lips together. Dean dragged them across the living room, toward the bedroom, hands sliding up under Sam's shirt and spreading wide across his skin. "Sam," he moaned into the kiss, backed him into the room, up against the wall.

"Let me tell you something," Dean panted into the kiss, rolled his hips against Sam's, growled when he felt the man's arousal. "Sometimes, I'm gonna fuck you, hard, maybe against the wall like this," his leg shifted between Sam's, pressing up to give emphasis to his words. "Other times though," Dean's lips slid across Sam's jaw, along his neck, up to his ear. "You're gonna fuck me and it will be whatever you want. I want to be, _whatever_ you want." As far as Dean was concerned, he wanted everything, every touch, and every moment, anything Sam desired. He fell back enough to pull his brother's t-shirt off, tossing it across the room, bringing their bodies together once more.

"Jesus Christ." Sam felt every single one of Dean's words everywhere on his body. His cock ached, his skin came alive, the hairs on the backs of his arms bristled. Everywhere he could feel he felt too much too fast; heat, tingling then the most intense wave of desires he'd ever felt.

Dean's skin was warm against Sam's chest. His hands slipped over Dean's hips and he rocked forward against the man's thigh. The room spun a little, tilted and Sam clung to his brother. It hadn't changed, the way Sam's body kicked into high gear when Dean was close. _Touching him_.

 _Here._

Each time Dean's mouth slid over his Sam felt his heart flutter and thud faster. Dean's lips were smooth, gentle, and then rough. Teeth dragged over Sam's bottom lip and his knees weakened for a moment. Dean simply caught him under his arms and held him there. _Fuck_ , Sam was going to die from this - he was sure.

Moaning, Sam tried to slow his breathing and snatched at Dean's waistband then slid his fingers around to pull on the button. "Wanna feel all of you," he murmured against his brother's mouth.

"God, yes," Dean gasped, fingers shaking with the sudden thrill of it all. This, Sam here, what he'd wanted for so _long_ and it was finally happening. "Sam," he growled his brother's name, slid his hands hard down the man's chest, undid the button, dragged down the zipper. "Want you." Dean pulled Sam away from the wall with fingers under his waistline, dragging him across the bedroom, pushing at the fabric. Dean was alive with this, skin tingling, heart racing, so much more than he'd felt in years and it only intensified.

As the denim dropped, Dean fell to his knees, crawled forward and pushed Sam back. His brother dropped to his ass on the bed and Dean smirked up at him, tugging the remaining clothing off. "Still the strongest," he murmured and curled his fingers around Sam's knees, spread his legs wider to make room to crawl between. Sam was hard, cock red swollen, thick and full brushing up against his belly and Dean wet his lips. He'd never gotten far enough to see his brother completely naked like this before and now he was going to drink in his full, continuing to gaze even if it pulled a flush bright along Sam's skin.

Sam dropped his gaze to his brother's shoulder and shifted nervously. "Dean..." His brother's eyes were moving over his body like he'd never seen him before, like he was memorizing every line or curve on Sam's body. He pressed his legs tighter against Dean's sides for a moment. Hands slipping over Dean's forearms Sam moved them slowly up the tattooed flesh, fingers grazing over ancient symbols and swirls of text. Finally, he curled his fingers around the back of his brother's neck and pulled him forward so he could kiss his way across Dean's forehead, his temple and down his cheek. "Stop staring," he mumbled.

A slow smile lifted Dean's lips once more and he dropped down, pressing his lips to the inside of Sam's thigh. "I can't help it. Staring that is." Dean's fingers slid up Sam's legs, thumb pressing into the muscles, continuing up, marking the hitch of Sam's breath.

"What do you want Sam?" He asked quietly, tongue across his lips as the pad of his thumb slid across the base of Sam's cock. Just one little touch but he felt it spark up his arm, through his system. Dean swallowed to keep from lunging forward. "How do you want me?" He murmured and shifted closer, pushed up enough to brush his lips to Sam's.

Sam struggled to keep breathing as his mind worked over what Dean was offering him. "I want." Sam squeezed his eyes shut and sucked on Dean's bottom lip for a few moments, blood racing through his veins and buzzing in his ears. "You, fucking me. I remember-" he moaned and tried to take Dean's mouth again, memories flooding him with almost lost sensation. Dean pressing him against the wall, breath dancing across his skin. "Want you. Please." His hands moved restlessly over Dean's body, tugging, urging, wanting Dean closer.

"Don't have to ask twice," Dean murmured, hand sliding up Sam's chest, pressing him back down into the mattress. Dean pushed up enough off the floor to tug at his jeans, shifting them off his hips, kicking at them. "Gonna make you feel so good," Dean breathed, lips sliding open along Sam's chest, over to suck at his nipple, pull it up between his teeth, tongue flicking across the sensitive nub. Dean couldn't get enough of Sam's skin, wanted to feel the muscles twitching beneath his skin, the way his brother pulled in shaky breaths, writhed just slightly beneath him.

The tip of his tongue trailed along the middle of Sam's chest, salty warmth, dipping into the belly button and lower. Dean felt the smear of pre-come on his jaw, shifted enough to drag his cheek across the heated flesh. It was all so much, too much, Dean still found himself knowing it wasn't _enough_. Maybe with Sam it never would be. His lips ghosted across Sam's cock, nostrils flaring as he breathed in his scent, learned it, memorized. His heart skipped a beat as he considered how long he could spend mapping out his brother's skin.

"God Dean." The words merged together into a moan and Sam's arms stretched up high over his head as his body arched off the bed to get more of Dean's touch. It flooded back through him, the way it felt all those years ago - _the way it felt now_ \- Sam wanted Dean, always had. Hips twitched up toward the heat of his brother's body Sam moaned again, the sound low and throaty. Dean's lips were smooth and full and burning hot against the sensitive skin of Sam's cock. They were there then gone, there, and away - and Sam growled in frustration as he reached down to tangle his fingers through Dean's hair.

The sharp bite of heavy lust had Dean releasing a husky chuckle, pulling up just enough to glance up at his brother. "Hey, I wanna savor this. I want to make you feel like you're gonna fall apart. Just for me." Dean slid his tongue along the underside of Sam's cock, up to the tip, a slow circle around the head, gathering pre-come. Hands curling under Sam's legs, Dean lifted him just slightly, crouching lower to pull Sam's body toward him along the edge of the bed. Dean's body was humming with the need to be in Sam, already, a driving force low in the pit of his stomach but he was enjoying this now.

Fingers digging into Sam's flesh, Dean parted him, lips burning along the inside of the thigh once more. No lube, he should have thought about that, he'd enjoy this more anyway. Tasting every inch of Sam, claiming him as his own. Sam's body twitched, hips rolling down to meet the first initial glide of his tongue. Dean dragged his tongue across the hole, laving at the puckered entrance, moaning at the explosion of musky salt on his taste buds.

Sam's body moved in several directions at once. He'd never felt anything like it - Dean's tongue moved over the most secret places on his body - no one had ever touched him like that. It was so intense Sam's body tried to pull away at the same time as his hips rocked down into Dean's touch. His tongue was hot, wet and slick - probing, pushing. "God..." Sam gasped in a breath as his hands dropped to his sides to grasp the blanket on the bed. Wriggling closer Sam moaned again, panting already, wanting more of his brother.

Dean's fingers were digging into the muscles of Sam's thighs and he pulled his legs back, feeling a blush creep up his chest and neck. He was totally exposed to Dean, vulnerable, _wanting_. "Dean, I can't-" Sam's breath hitched again, his muscles tightening exquisitely as the very tip of Dean's tongue pushed at his hole only to drift away again. Teasing.

"You can," Dean whispered against the impossible heat of his brother. But he took pity on his brother, his lover, enough to bring a finger up and gently work his way in. Sam was tight with just the suggestion of having experienced this before; likely a fair bit and possibly even the day Dean had come to get them. Dean's tongue moved along with his finger, sliding along the hole, pulling, stretching, and pressing harder forward. The noises Sam was making, the way he moved and rocked on the mattress, into him and away from him, like he couldn't decide if he wanted more and if it was too much.

Dean added a second finger, stretched them wide and pushed his tongue as far forward as he could at the angle. He couldn't get enough, couldn't _taste_ enough. Panting heavily, Dean turned his head to the side, sucked a purplish bruise on Sam's thigh, trailed over once more, and pulled his lover's balls into his mouth. _Amazing_. Dean's heart pounded hard in his chest and his hips jerked forward into thin air.

"Fuck-" Sam moaned and it trailed off to a pained whimper. Perfect and torturous, too much and not enough - everything was making Sam twist and arch his body on the bed. He couldn't stay still, couldn’t stop his shifting up and down, rolling with the wave of pleasure that trailed up and down his body. "Dean," he whispered. Sam's hands reached down again, sliding over his own clenched abs so his fingers could stretch down, the tips grazing Dean's temple, his hair.

His head rolled to the side, lips parted so he could suck in huge breaths of air. The room was filled with _them_ ; the sounds of Sam's own panting, small moans and gasps, Dean's tongue lapping, the sucking sounds of teasing kisses. Sam's hand drifted to his own face, covering his eyes. The room was spinning around him. Each time Dean's tongue lapped at his flesh he jolted - his body over-sensitive and alive.

"Need you," Dean panted, adding a third finger to the mix, stretching Sam wide. It made his mind spin, the way Sam seemed to just take it all, pull him in. "Fuck Sam, I need you so bad," he gasped, pulling his fingers free, sliding his hands up and tugging Sam the rest of the way across the mattress. He climbed up between his brother's legs, already working saliva across his palm, preparing to slick himself. Dean sucked in heavy, full breaths, trying to gain back some of his control, nearly collapsing onto Sam's body to bring their lips together, hard and fast, deep and lingering. His palm slid over his cock, clenching for a moment at the base to ease the ache of want.

Finally able to get his hands on Dean's body, Sam moaned low and deep. His rough palms rasped down over Dean's back, his ass and his fingers dug hard into the muscle there. He sucked on his brother's tongue - pulling it deep into his mouth - tasting himself, Dean, the faint taste of chocolate that sent him soaring back through the years again. Scraping his nails over Dean's ass he pulled him closer, "Dean, I want you." Blinking his eyes open he gazed up at his brother, losing himself in those dark eyes.

Hooking a leg over Dean's, Sam locked their bodies together. He could feel how hard Dean was, could feel the rigid flesh pressing against him. Sucking in a shuddering breath he dragged his hands back up the man's back - _God_ \- the way Dean's muscles rippled beneath his flesh was so hot. Sam wanted him, wanted his brother to fill him - drive him crazy - make him come apart. Twisting again he pushed up into Dean, begging with his body for more.

Dean pulled at Sam's legs, spread him wider, sank low onto the mattress to line himself up. For just a moment his vision blurred, the pleasure flaring through him almost too much to handle. His eyes snapped up to Sam, considering him as he moaned around the feel of flesh sliding against the head of his cock. He caught on the entrance once, twice, lingering there for just a moment before he drove forward. Wet hot heat pulled him in and Dean didn't stop until he was buried completely in his brother, hands digging into the blanket behind him, chests barely touching. Dean clenched his eyes closed, pulling in quick breaths through his nose, nearly frozen in the moment.

Sam held his breath for a few painful moments then slowly let it out as he tried to ease himself through the burn back to the pleasure. His fingers dragged down Dean's face, across his full bottom lip then slipped down to his chest. _Perfect_. Even with the new scars, older, this was _his_ Dean from all those years ago. Squeezing his eyes shut for a second, Sam felt his body start to relax again as Dean held there. He could feel his brother trembling slightly and when he blinked his eyes open once more his brother's face was pure ecstasy. The way his lashes fell against his flushed cheeks, his full lips parted slightly as his chest rose and fell.

After so long, so many years of waiting, he was _in_ Sam. The thing he'd always wanted, that connection, to feel Sam along every inch of his body. Dean moaned and forced his eyes open, staring down at his brother, dropping down to free his hand and caress along Sam's jaw. "God Sam," he whispered, pressing his lips to Sam's cheek, to the opposite, up along his forehead, down to his lips.

"Dean," Sam whispered. Curling his hand over his brother's cheek he wrapped a long leg over Dean's lower back. His free hand slid down to capture one of Dean's nipple rings and he flicked at it gently. "Fuck me," he murmured as his fingered tightened on the ring and his head fell back against the mattress.

"Shit," Dean gasped, hips snapping at the word alone, the pull of the ring against his nipple. A moment’s flicker of pain and Dean thrived off it. His hips slid back, drove forward just as quickly. With each inhale Dean could smell the intensity of them, heat and salt, _Sam_. His hands were once more in the blanket, lifting his body, more room to thrust his hips hard down into his brother. It built in him, a continuous pressure that made his hips move fast, muscles quiver in response, air leaving in harsh sharp bursts from his lips. "Sam," he groaned, head hanging low enough to see Sam's cock slid across his abs. _Jesus_ , this was going to kill him, in the most amazing way possible.

Everything merged into one for Sam. The heat of Dean's body, his cock - filling him to the point of aching and burning. All his muscles were clenching and relaxing - his body a writhing mess. Spine bowing up off the bed, Sam's hips rolled to match his brother's thrusts. Anything that was just _that_ close to pain morphed into pleasure and Sam's moans grew in intensity. He could hardly breathe, it was _that_ intense. Collapsing back to the bed he reached for the other nipple ring, fingers tightening on them both, twisting gently - vaguely aware of the expressions of pain then pleasure flitting across his brother's face.

It was too soon for his orgasm but Dean knew he couldn't fight it off long. His body was screaming Sam's name, drinking in the pleasure of the moment, the little zings of pain from Sam's fingers on his nipple rings. Holding himself with one hand, Dean shoved the other roughly between them, grasped Sam's cock and simply squeezed for half a dozen thrusts. Then he dragged the overheated flesh beneath his palm, twisted, set the pace with each hard drive into tight heat. "Sam, m'gonna," he gasped a warning, knowing his end was close; he withdrew, pulled back until he could lift Sam's hips off the bed. With the new angle he thrust hard down into his brother, seeking out the sensitive bundle of nerves, wanting to make Sam lose control and scream his name.

Something jolted deep within Sam's body. Fiery tendrils of pleasures shot out all over his body, his skin, his spine. Twisting forward and to the side Sam gasped out his brother's name, moaned fell back against the bed as wave after wave of pleasure slammed into him. Vision swimming Sam's hand flailed out and caught Dean's shoulder. "Dean, God-" It was a strangled cry as the last swipe of Dean's grip on Sam's cock sent him falling straight down into the chasm of his orgasm.

Sam's body jerked up, abs tightening, balls drawing up tight against his body. Come pulsed thick and hot from his cock, splashing up his body and Sam's ass clenched tight _ohgod_ so tight around his brother's rigid shaft.

Half thrusting with the start of his release, Dean shuddered, sucked in a long breath and released it with a moan of Sam's name. He'd never come so hard in his life; never felt something so very intense. This is what he was searching for, the moment where it felt as if his entire body was tilting off the planet, little sparks across his skin. The moment his orgasm passed, Dean collapsed down onto his brother, heaving in deep lungfuls of air thick with Sam's scent. "Jesus," he gasped into Sam's neck, body twitching in the aftermath.

Sam's hand somehow made its way to the back of Dean's head and he held his brother close. Heart racing in his own chest he was sure he could feel the steady thump of his brother's answering back. Letting out a low groan Sam nosed his way through Dean's hair and kissed his temple. "Holy shit," he whispered.

"Mmhmm," Dean murmured, hips shifting against Sam's slightly. He kind of wanted to stay here, buried in Sam forever. And even if the rest of the world was shit around them, he could rest assured that this was perfect. _Safe_. "Was amazing," he panted and slowly pulled back to better curl around his brother's form, hold him tight. "Love you," Dean whispered, pressing his lips to Sam's shoulder.

Humming a pleased sound Sam could feel his heart slowing as he finally managed to breathe normally. The weight of Dean's body was reassuring, keeping him there. "Always," he murmured sleepily.

Curling an arm around his brother, Dean used the edge of the blanket to wipe drying come from his body. He sighed softly, settling into the mattress, murmuring nonsense for just a moment. "Broke me," he laughed softly, closing his eyes.

Chuckling Sam rolled towards his brother. "Gettin' old, Dean?" He ran the tip of his nose along Dean's jawbone then lapped softly at the man's mouth. Sam's body was still dizzy and humming with sensation and he slid down Dean's side to rest his cheek on his brother's chest. His tongue slipped past his lips to trace a silver ring. "Like these," he murmured.

Moaning softly, Dean's fingers dragged through Sam's sweat damped hair. A small gasp left his lips when Sam pulled just slightly. "Round two already Sammy?" He teased, closing his eyes as the mixture of pain and pleasure rocked through him.

"Don't worry; I know you need your rest." Sam shifted again, sliding down the side of his brother's body until he could settle hot lips against Dean's hip bone. "I'll take care of you." Grinning, he sucked hard on the pale flesh just behind Dean's hip.

-=-=-=-

After a couple of months with Sam and Dean couldn't remember his life before. Well sure, he could remember it but only in the terms of that was _then_ and now? Now he was with Sam. And they lived in some cabin in the middle of the forest, and for all he could tell, it was safe. Every day they walked the perimeter, eventually out of sheer need for something to do more than anything else. After the first month they packed up things, made the three hour trip into the largest nearby town. It was scary in the way Dean would never admit out loud, the deserted streets, the cars piled up, the sheer _empty_.

They didn't encounter zombies until the end of the trip, after they'd filled as many containers of gas they could, picked out items that could be eaten, packets of seeds that could be grown. The zombies were slower now, but still faster than he'd seen in movies. Strange that. Slow as if tired, as if hungry. Dean thought it could be. Even the undead needed food apparently. Sam shot a series of three rather large men that almost snagged Dean around the middle and they made it back in the car, drove in silence most of the way home.

There, in the cabin, it was easy to forget about the world. Dean though, he knew his brother, could see the look in his eyes as he stared off into the forest. Sure he was happy; content with Dean despite their petty fights, their occasional afternoons spent apart just for the sake of sanity, but Dean could see the sadness too. The idea, of losing the world, no new books, no new movies, no new _anything_. And Chris, somewhere out there - maybe - struggling to survive.

Sometimes, when that look crossed his face, Dean would stroke his hair, kiss his temple, soothe him. Sometimes, Dean would do anything to drive that look away, taking his brother on the hood of the car, up against the wall, in the patch of grass that always seemed to catch the sunshine. And it calmed the little part of Dean that always waited in fear for Sam to realize he wasn't good enough. Even if there was really no alternative. Dean _knew_ , like he knew the sun rose and the days kept turning, that Sam wanted to be with him, not because he had no choice, but because... it was simply his truth.

They were. And Dean, even with the end of the world as they knew, was content. They laughed, teased, bickered, they fucked and loved and all those things that made Dean _feel_. Always so much, always enough, more than. And Dean stopped tracking the days, the weeks, just marked time passing with Sam falling asleep at his side, waking up in his arms.

So he wasn't very certain what day it was or how much time may have passed when the alarm sounded. Sam was washing up after several long hours working in the garden and Dean was boiling a broth for soup. But just like that in a flash they were moving, weapons always nearby, Dean throwing Sam a shot gun as they came around to the front of the house. For just a moment, one split second, he entertained the idea that this could be it. If there were many, if they'd tracked them down, then he and Sam might not stand a chance. His eyes flashed to his brother's, they shared a look and just the slightest nod.

But before Dean could summon up the strength for last goodbyes, for anything to fill the dead silence in the wake of the alarm, he heard the gentle purr of an engine. It was odd in its familiarity, like Dean may have forgotten what other cars sounded like. Then the crunch of gravel and the wisp of a dust cloud as a truck rolled into view. And he registered the truck at the same time Sam inhaled sharply. Chris. Chris and some other blond guy. Dean, well, maybe part of him hadn't been expecting to see Chris again but he smiled. Because this time, he was completely confident that he had his Sam, and others around for company would be good, for both of them.

Sam was laughing, clearly just as surprised and Dean lowered his weapon, elbowing his brother in the side. "Guess this means I have to gag you now to keep you quiet at night huh?" He teased, Sam flashed him a heated look and Dean's heart skipped a beat.


End file.
